BRARY 

IVER^TY  OF 
AUFORNIA   y 


COLBY   STORIES 


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COLBY  STORIES 

AS  TOLD  BY   COLBY   MEN   OF  THE 
CLASSES 

1832   TO  1902 


EDITED  BY 

HERBERT  CARLYLE   LIBBY 


ILLUSTRATED 


CONCORD,  N.  H.: 

^be  IRumtorD  presa 
1900 


LOAN  STACK 


Copyright,  1900, 
By  Herbert  Carlyle  Libby 


LDIdC.1 


TO  A.  H.  M. 

Dear  A.  H.  M. : — You  suggested  in  one  of  your  former 
letters  to  me  that  I  mail  you  one  of  "the  very  first  vol- 
umes of  those  old  Colby  yarns."  It  gives  me  the  great- 
est pleasure,  as  a  slight  regard  for  our  friendship,  to 
carry  out  the  suggestion  which  you  make.  Should  the 
mission  of  the  book  prove  wholly  praiseworthy,  and  the 
words  between  its  covers  tend  to  arouse  a  too  dormant 
college-spirit,  I  shall  feel  liberally  rewarded  for  all  the 
work  that  the  volume  has  cost  me. 

Sincerely  yours, 

H.  C.  L. 


896 


ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

To  the  following  men  of  Colby  College  who  have  con- 
tributed to  these  pages,  the  editor  wishes  to  thus  pub- 
licly proclaim  his  thanks  for  their  kindly  co-operation 
and  good  wishes  : 

Dr.  William  Mathews,  '35  ;  Prof.  A.  F.  Caldwell,  '90; 
Hon.  Asher  Hinds,  '83  ;  Holman  F.  Day,  '87  ;  R.  Wes- 
ley Dunn,  '68;  Prin.  W.  S.  Knowlton,  '64;  Hon. 
A.  W.  Paine,  '32;  Oliver  L.  Hall,  '93;  Henry  W. 
Dunn,  '96;  Joseph  H.  Files,  '"]']  \  Jacob  B.  Shaw,  '60; 
William  O.  Stevens,  '99 ;  Harry  L.  Koopman,  '80 ; 
Rev.  Abram  Wyman,  '89 ;  Angier  Louis  Goodwin,  '02  ; 
Rev.  H.  R.  Mitchell,  '72;  J.  F.  Norris,  '63. 

Grateful  acknowledgments  are  also  due  President 
Nathaniel  Butler,  for  encouragement  in  the  work ;  Dr. 
George  D.  B.  Pepper,  for  valuable  advice  ;  all  Colby 
men  and  women  who  have  taken  occasion  from  time  to 
time  to  wish  the  book  prosperity. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

A  Heavy  Artillery  Sortie i 

In  the  Days  of  Hazing 19 

How  Wally  Went  to  the  Fire 36 

An  Imputed  Sin 47 

Number  'Steen,  North  College 55 

Tom  and  Smith 62 

The  Freshman  Deluge 72 

"  Abe  "  of  Seventy-Blank 83 

A  Cure  for  Nervousness 105 

The  Leg  that  Failed 117 

Class-Spirit 130 

Unvarnished  Tales 

The  Enterprise  of  Freshman  D 159 

Tales  of  the  Early  Days 164 

Daniel  Pratt,  G.  A.  T 168 

How  the  Turkey  Gobbler  "  Said  Prayers"     .         .        .  172 

A  Coincidence 174 

In  Memoriam 176 

Nil  de  Mortuis  Nisi  Bonum 178 

Encouraged 182 

A  Curt  Rejoinder 184 

Higher  Authority 185 

An  Effective  "  Water  Treatment "           ....  187 

A  Martyr  to  Science 190 

Incidents  and  Accidents  of  a  Former  Generation  .         .  193 

Rare  "Ben"  Butler 

Ben  Butler  in  College 205 

Ben  Butler  and  the  Sign 211 

The  Broken  Engagement 225 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing  page 
Group  of  contributors.     Frontispiece. 

Yo'  mabbe  Col-ladge  fellaire,  heh .?"      .        .        .        .11 

A  product  not  uncommon  to  a  college  town  was  The 

Girl." 19 

.  .  .  The  unfortunate  Freshman  .  .  .  plunged 
headforemost  into  the  bank  on  the  other  side."         .       27 

With  this  announcement  .  .  .  the  door  was  thrown 
wide  open." 31 

His  bare  legs  stretched  out  to  the  fire,  .  .  .  the 
cigar  in  his  mouth,  his  face  the  picture  of  peace 
after  pain." 45 

.  .  .  Forthwith  I  was  made  the  smiling  but  unwill- 
ing victim  of  her  first  Welsh  rarebit."        •         •         •       57 

.  .  .  Dodge  .  .  .  broad-jumped  the  seat 
directly  in  front  of  us." 87 

Never  had  he  put  into  it  the  fire  and  the  life  that  thrilled 
it  now." 112 

Dillingham    .     .     .    raised  his  hat  politely  to  the  co-ed 

with  Brown." 141 

College  Boys  of  the  Fifties 161 

Sam  "  addressing  Graduating  Class  at  "Last  Chapel."      192 


COLBY  STORIES 


A  HEAVY  ARTILLERY  SORTIE 

I  think  there  were  eight  Democrats  in  college 
that  year.  No  matter  what  year.  This  is  n't 
an  eulogium  of  a  class.  It  isn't  a  page  from 
history.  It  is  a  typical  Colby  story  and  it's 
true — well,  as  to  that  I  can  refer  you  to  a  chap 
who  will  some  day  be  Governor  of  Maine  if  he 
happens  to  want  the  job. 

Of  those  eight  Democrats,  one  was  a  Democrat 
because  he  had  read  the  papers  and  studied  the 
issues.  The  rest  of  us  had  been  too  busy 
"  plugging"  to  post  ourselves.  We  were  Demo- 
crats because  our  fathers  were.  That's  an  easy 
and  justifiable  method  of  selecting  your  political 
stripe  when  you're  on  the  downy  side  of 
minority. 

But  the  eight  Democrats  were  not  lonesome. 

Political  morals  are  always  easy  in  college. 
The  boys  organized  a  campaign  club — a  club 
to  help  swell  up  processions.  The  eight  Demo- 
crats always  turned   to  and   helped   fill   up   the 


4  COLBY  STORIES 

ranks  when  there  were  RepubHcan  **  grand  par- 
ades," and  the  RepubHcans — which  was  a  remark- 
able evidence  of  good  feeHng,  for  there  were  an 
hundred  and  ten — would  graciously  go  along 
with  the  eight  Democrats  and  march  in  a  Dem- 
ocratic parade.  You  see  there  are  times  when 
college  friendships  are  ahead  of  political  afifini- 
ties. 

It  is  true  that  some  of  these  Republican 
volunteers  didn't  act  wholly  the  part  of  good 
Democrats  at  these  "grand  rallies."  At  one  of 
them  in  order  to  ease  his  conscience  a  young 
Republican  with  a  hooked  wire  dragged  the  bag 
of  coffee  out  of  the  great  kettle  in  which  a  de- 
coction for  the  marching  host  was  boiling.  And 
the  water  was  desperately  boiled  half  an  hour 
before  the  absence  of  the  coffee  was  noted. 

Then  also  those  ''incidental  Republicans" 
used  to  exert  themselves  to  steal  all  the  Demo- 
cratic plates  and  spoons  they  could  get  hold  of. 
At  last  it  got  to  that  pass  that  eminent  politicians 
would  rather  see  a  flock  of  turkey  buzzards  in  a 
parade  than  those  patriots  wearing  the  old  gold 
capes  of  Colby. 

But  though  the  one  hundred  and  ten  Repub- 
licans could  tolerate   the   marching  music  of  a 


A   HEAVY  ARTILLERY  SORTIE  5 

Democratic  band,  could  tolerate  a  Democratic 
barbecue  and  eat  more  ravenously  than  the 
hungriest  Democrat  there,  it  developed  that  there 
were  things  that  they  could  not  tolerate. 

And  this  brings  me  more  nearly  to  the  story. 
There  was  a  peculiar  political  situation  that  fall. 
Both  sides  for  several  days  were  confident  of 
victory.  I  mean  to  say,  that  after  the  day  of 
election  the  actual  results  of  the  ballots  were  in 
question.  Both  sides  claimed  the  presidency. 
Both  sides  took  occasion  to  celebrate.  When 
the  Waterville  Democrats  got  ready  to  burn 
some  powder  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic  of  the 
local  Unterrified  proffered  the  use  of  his  lawn 
and  also  gave  the  Democrats  permission  to  spread 
out  over  the  railroad  lawn  that  stretched  its 
green  expanse  along  parallel  with  the  campus. 
It  had  been  at  first  arranged  that  the  Democratic 
celebration  should  be  postponed  until  the  final 
result  of  the  ballots  should  be  announced.  But 
the  crowd  became  too  impatient.  Especially 
were  the  mercurial  Democrats  of  '*The  Plains" 
wrought  up.  They  feared  that  they  would  be 
cheated  out  of  their  celebration  altogether.  The 
Republicans  were  claiming  so  earnestly  that  the 
last  count  would  settle  Democratic  hash  for  four 


6  COLBY  STORIES 

years  that  this  cocksureness  impressed  the  excit- 
able gentlemen  from  the  south  end  of  the  city. 

Therefore,  shortly  after  supper  one  evening 
there  were  signs  of  activity  on  railroad  lawn. 
First  came  several  scores  of  humble  patriots 
glad  of  the  evening  hour  after  work  in  the  mills. 
Each  puffed  his  pipe  and  sat  patiently  on  the 
sward  waiting  for  some  event.  It  was  evident 
that  the  word  had  gone  round. 

And  even  as  the  hoi  polloi  gathered  silently 
on  the  railroad  lawn,  so  did  the  college  world 
range  itself  along  the  fence  and  survey  with  in- 
creasing interest  the  preparations  that  were 
making  across  the  street. 

Then  trundling  through  the  dust  of  Front 
Street  came  an  object  surrounded  by  a  little 
swarm  of  boys  and  men.  It  was  dragged  along 
with  a  sort  of  reverence  as  though  it  were  a  car 
of  Juggernaut  in  miniature.  It  was  a  brass  can- 
non, its  breech  stained  with  powder  from  many 
a  patriotic  bout.  Traditions  surrounded  that 
cannon.  It  had  been  stolen  from  somewhere  or 
other  and  that  fact  always  gives  a  cannon  a  value. 

Soon  after  the  cannon  had  been  located  on 
railroad  lawn  men  with  band  instruments  ap- 
peared— a  sort  of  picked-up  organization  that 


A   HEAVY  ARTILLERY  SORTIE  7 

had  been  playing  patriotic  tunes  during  the  fall 
at  suburban  rallies. 

They  tuned  up  and  with  the  bass  horn  woofing 
mightily  struck  into  the  "  Star  Spangled  Ban- 
ner." The  man  in  charge  of  the  cannon  was 
still  occupied  with  his  cans  and  his  priming  and 
so  the  band,  whose  Gallic  sympathies  were  re- 
vealed by  their  patois,  rendered  the  **  Marseil- 
laise "  very  spiritedly. 

By  that  time  the  Canadian  patriots  of  the 
North  end  had  flocked  with  the  voluble  and 
vociferous  dwellers  of  the  South  end,  and  the 
college  men,  ranged  in  solemn  rows  along  the 
fence,  were  looking  out  on  a  very  lively  and 
very  noisy  scene. 

The  universal  opinion  on  the  college  side  of 
the  street  was  that  a  celebration  of  that  sort 
before  the  great  national  contest  had  been  de- 
cided, and  right  under  the  nose  of  a  Republican 
college,  too,  was  an  arrogant  piece  of  gall. 

While  the  band  was  playing  the  third  selec- 
tion— with  the  bass  a  little  less  vociferous  and 
rather  tremulous — Justin  Brown  came  saunter- 
ing down  the  walk  from  the  reading-room.  He 
wore  his  baseball  cap  and  his  jersey  and  was 
slapping  one  sturdy  leg  with  a  bamboo  cane. 


8  COLBY  STORIES 

He  cocked  one  leg  over  a  stone  post  at  the 
entrance  of  the  path  and  cHcked  a  heel  against 
the  ringing  granite  in  time  to  the  beat  of  the 
big  drum. 

'*  Yagger  gang,  isn't  it?"  he  asked  of  the 
three  men  who  were  nearest. 

"  Mostly/'  said  they.  "  The  whole  crowd 
come  from  the  Plains  and  over  on  Kennebec 
Street.     There  is  n't  a  Yankee  in  the  gang." 

*' No  more  news  from  the  count,  is  there?" 
asked  Brown.  **  I  did  n't  go  down  town  to- 
night." 

**  I  just  came  up  past  the  telegraph  office," 
said  "  Skinny"  Edes,  **  and  they  told  me  that  it 
would  take  two  days  before  they  could  get  the 
count  in  shape." 

**  Those  Frenchmen  chipped  in  last  week  to 
buy  that  powder,"  explained  a  Senior,  "  and  they 
are  bound  to  burn  it.  They  do  n't  care  who  is 
elected  or  who  is  beaten.  They  just  want  a 
chance  to  chew  the  rag  and  kick  up  a  hulla- 
baloo." 

*'  They  probably  never  heard  of  a  college 
study  hour,"  suggested  Brown  in  his  cool  tones. 

At  that  moment  the  crowd  was  scuttling  back 
and  leaving  a  wide  space  for  His   Majesty,  the 


A   HEAVY  ARTILLENY  SORTIE  9 

cannon.  The  master  of  ceremonies  was  about 
to  touch  off  the  first  blast. 

He  and  two  others  had  poured  in  plenty  of 
powder  and  then  had  rammed  newspaper  and 
grass  into  the  muzzle,  pounding  in  this  wadding 
with  short  bludgeons.  This  work  finished,  half  of 
a  sheet  of  newspaper  was  laid  over  the  touch- 
hole  and  the  powder  was  sprinkled  over  it. 
Then  two  of  the  volunteers  held  their  hats  to 
shield  the  match  that  the  gunner  struck  against 
the  leg  of  his  humble  trousers.  He  set  fire  to 
the  edge  of  the  paper  and  all  three  ran  back 
into  the  crowd. 

The  corner  of  the  paper  flared  for  a  moment 
in  the  half  dusk,  then  pouf !  Up  shot  a  tuft  of 
flame  and  the  next  moment,  boom  !  There  was 
a  shock  that  jolted  the  ground.  Through  the 
cloud  of  yellow  smoke  the  cannon  turned  somer- 
saults backward,  its  recoil  sending  it  over  and 
over  along  the  sward.  As  soon  as  the  smoke 
had  cleared  away  the  gunner  and  his  crew  went 
back  and  commenced  to  load  once  more. 

And  with  the  woof,  woof,  of  the  bass  horn 
leading  off,  the  band  galloped  into  another 
patriotic  tune. 

'*  Looks  as  though  it  might  be  fun  firing  that 


lO  COLBY  STORIES 

cannon,"  remarked  Brown.  ''Any  of  you  fel- 
lows ever  fire  a  cannon  of  that  size?" 

"  The  one  we  have  in  our  place,"  said 
''Ancient"  Ham,  "  is  about  the  size  of  that  and 
there's  more  fun  in  firing  salutes  with  it  than 
being  on  the  side  line  in  a  ten-inning  game." 

"That  so?"  said  Brown  lazily.  "I  never 
fired  a  cannon.  I  believe  I'll  go  over  and  vol- 
unteer." 

And  he  strolled  across  the  road  and  slowly 
forced  himself  through  the  crowd  that  fringed 
the  lawn. 

Those  who  remember  Brown  remember  the 
ease  of  his  manner.  He  had  an  especially  soft 
voice  and  a  blandness  and  sweetness  of  tone  that 
somehow  didn't  appear  to  go  with  his  stalwart 
figure.  Therefore,  those  whom  he  addressed 
always  were  impressed  a  bit  by  his  bearing. 

He  walked  up  to  the  three  men  who  were 
loading  the  cannon. 

"  No  objection  to  my  watching  you,  have 
you?"  he  asked  with  a  winning  smile,  for  the 
boss  of  the  job  looked  up  a  bit  surlily  at  the 
approach  of  the  college  man.  College  men  are 
not  in  especial  favor  with  townsmen  in  the  aver- 
age locality. 


Yo'  mabbe  col-ladsje  fellaire,  heh  ?" 


A   HEAVY  ARTILLERY  SORTIE  II 

"  I  'd  like  to  know  how  to  fire  a  cannon,"  said 
Brown.  **  If  we  get  the  ball  pennant  next  year 
we  probably  would  want  to  hire  that  cannon  of 
you  gentlemen.  And  I  'd  like  to  know  how  to 
run  it." 

The  Canadian  stopped  in  his  work  of  pulling 
grass. 

"Yo'  mabbe  col-ladge  fellaire,  heh?"  he  asked. 

*'Yes,  I  go  to  school  over  across  the  road," 
returned  Brown. 

*'  Wal,  yo'  mabbe  t'ink  yo'  come  here  pla' 
som  treeck,  heh?"  asked  the  other  with  a 
knowing  grimace. 

**  Why,  my  dear  Democratic  colleague,"  said 
Brown  in  his  smoothest  tone,  "  do  you  think  I 
would  try  to  interfere  with  the  great  and  the 
glorious  occasion  that  is  here  in  progress? 
Why,  I  have  almost  been  expelled  from  that 
school  there  for  sticking  up  for  my  Democratic 
principles.  I  am  here  to  shake  you  by  the  hand 
and  compliment  you  on  the  manner  in  which 
you  are  running  this  thing.  And  I  want  to 
know  how  to  fire  a  cannon.  What  are  you 
putting  in  all  that  grass  for?  That  grass  isn't 
explosive,  is  it?  "  he  queried  with  his  blue  eyes 
opening  innocently. 


12  .  COLBY  STORIES 

"•  Mak'  him  spik,  by  gar,  dat  grass  do,"  said 
the  Canadian,  grinning  a  bit  in  spite  of  his  sus- 
picions that  the  bland  collegian  was  n't  wholly  as 
ignorant  as  he  seemed. 

**  You  are  perfectly  sure  that  your  man  is 
elected,  are  n't  you?  "  asked  Brown.  "  It  would 
be  too  bad  to  make  all  this  noise  for  nothing, 
and  disturb  all  those  nice  young  men  over 
there,  all  for  nothing,  too." 

"Wat  we  care  for  nice  yong  mans,  heh? 
M'ser  le  Boss  tal  us  can  come  here  and  fire 
cannon  and  ras'  noise.  And  we  ras'  noise,  now 
yo'  bat  ma  hfe." 

''How  much  powder  have  you?"  asked 
Brown ;  **  enough  to  keep  her  a  going  all  the 
evening?  " 

*'  Gass  he  go  boon-boon  tal  meednight  putty 
good,"  said  the  Canadian  with  a  broad  smile. 
And  he  proceeded  to  ram  in  the  grass  and 
paper. 

When  the  charge  was  lighted  off  Brown  re- 
treated through  the  crowd  back  to  the  fence. 

"  I  fear,"  said  he,  "that  our  friends,  the  yags, 
are  inclined  to  be  rebellious.  They  are  both 
suspicious  and  opinionated.  They  also  refer  to 
the  young  men  of  this  institution  in  uncompli- 


A   HEAVY  ARTILLERY  SORTIE  1 3 

mentary  terms,  and  are  going  to  fire  their  can- 
non till  midnight." 

A  groan  went  up  in  the  dusk  from  the  figures 
roosting  along  the  fence. 

"  But,"  continued  Brown,  "  there  may  be  a 
Providence  that  will  direct  otherwise." 

And  then  he  sauntered  along  the  fence  and 
talked  with  the  little  knots,  one  after  the  other, 
in  a  low  tone  of  voice. 

*'  But,  Brown,"  regularly  came  the  expostula- 
ting tone  of  some  spokesman  for  his  group, 
'•  you  do  n't  for  a  moment  think  you  are  going 
to  get  a  cannon  away  from  five  hundred  French- 
men, do  you?  " 

••  Did  I  ever  attempt  anything  I  did  n't  do?  " 
Brown  would  answer  in  each  case. 

As  he  went  to  his  room  for  a  moment  the 
rail  birds  excitedly  discussed  the  project. 

The  almost  universal  agreement  was  that  it 
was  nonsense  to  try  it. 

**  Why,  there  are  five  hundred  able-bodied 
men  there,"  said  ''Ancient"  Ham.  **And  that 
cannon  is  right  in  the  middle  of  them.  And 
from  what  little  I  know  of  French  Democrats  I 
feel  sure  that  they  will  assassinate  the  man  who 
touches  it." 


14      -  COLBY  STORIES 

When  Brown  came  back  with  a  slouch  hat 
on  and  a  faded  coat  on  his  back  the  men  gath- 
ered around  him. 

'*  Now,  Brown,  really,"  was  the  whispered 
chorus,  '*  really  you  do  n't  mean  to  try  it. 
Why,  man,  you'll  get  eaten  up!  It's  prepos- 
terous !  " 

"All  I  want  to  know,"  said  Brown,  ''  is 
whether  you  fellows  are  going  to  stand  behind 
me.  I  tell  you  I'm  going  to  get  that  cannon. 
A  dozen  of  you  can  help  me  in  the  way  I  have 
told  you.  If  you  won't  help  me  I  'm  going  in 
and  do  the  job  all  by  my  lonesome.  Now, 
what  are  you  going  to  say?  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  pregnant  silence. 
Then  the  indomitable  spirit  of  college  bravado 
rose,  kindled  by  the  flashing  eyes  of  the  college 
leader. 

**  Go  in,  old  man,  we  're  with  you  !  "  was  the 
reply. 

Brown  went  away  first.  It  was  dark  by  this 
time.  The  people  were  grouped  in  a  great  cir- 
cle around  the  cannon  and  the  band.  The  only 
light  came  from  the  flaring  helmet  lamps  of  the 
musicians,  and  from  a  few  torches  held  by 
boys. 


A    HEAVY  ARTILLERY  SORTIE  1 5 

Brown  strolled  forward  through  the  zone  of 
spluttering  lights  and  stood  beside  the  men  who 
w^ere  loading  the  cannon.  The  trim  college 
suit  had  been  replaced  by  old  garments  and 
the  celebrators  paid  no  especial  attention  to 
him.  He  even  pulled  some  grass  and  handed 
it  to  the  man  who  was  stuffing  the  gaping  can- 
non mouth.  He  sort  of  identified  himself  with 
the  crowd.  While  he  was  there  a  dozen  col- 
lege men  had  followed  him  across  the  street 
and  were  then  mingling  with  the  crowd  that 
stood  across  the  walk  leading  toward  the  col- 
lege. They  were  trusty  chaps — that  dozen,  else 
Brown  had  never  chosen  them. 

As  before  the  bit  of  paper  was  laid  over  the 
touch-hole,  was  lighted  and  the  gunners  ran 
back.  They  ran  back  still  further  than  the  first 
time  for  they  were  putting  heavier  and  heavier 
charges  in  the  cannon,  and  the  frisky  little 
thing  was  performing  wilder  gyrations  on  the 
grass  every  time  he  was  fired. 

Pouf !  Boom  !  Out  puffed  the  great  cloud  of 
smoke  and  rolled  along  the  ground.  But  there 
was  one  man  who  had  not  run  away  with  the 
others.  He  had  stood  right  there  with  his 
back  rounded  up  and  with  his  old  coat  hugged 


1 6  COLBY  STORIES 

close  round  his  ears.  The  moment  the  cannon 
barked,  he  leaped  on  it,  hidden  by  the  smoke, 
even  as  the  piece  was  cavorting  on  the  grass. 
At  the  same  time  a  dozen  strong  arms  and 
poking  elbows  were  busy  in  the  astonished 
throng  that  jammed  the  walk  leading  off  the 
lawn. 

"■  Back,  back,  team — team  !  "  was  the  shout. 
The  people  obeyed,  almost  falling  over  each 
other.  And  down  the  space  thus  cleared 
dashed  a  figure  on  the  dead  run.  An  object 
trundled  behind  him  in  the  darkness.  It  was 
the  cannon.  In  amazement  the  throng  poured 
together  again  in  a  welded,  struggling  mass  as 
he  passed.  The  pursuers  yelling  behind  could 
not  get  through  the  press  of  their  countrymen 
and  the  louder  they  yelled  and  swore  and  the 
more  they  pushed,  the  worse  was  the  confusion 
— the  more  inextricable  the  snarl  of  humanity. 

When  the  angry  men  most  nearly  concerned 
in  the  celebration  broke  through  the  mass  the 
cannon  had  been  lifted  through  the  gateway 
and  was  even  well  on  its  way  to  the  darkness 
of  the  rear  of  South  College.  Shrieking  like 
fiends  in  their  patois  the  Canadians  rushed 
against  the  deserted  college  fence. 


A   HEAVY  ARTILLERY  SORTIE  1 7 

And  then — now  if  you  are  neither  a  college 
graduate  nor  a  dweller  in  a  college  town,  I  am 
going  to  say  something  that  will  in  a  measure 
surprise  you. 

That  crowd  of  infuriated  men  stopped  at  the 
fence.  They  mounted  its  rails,  five  hundred  of 
them.  They  stood  there  and  yelled  against  the 
echoing  Bricks  all  the  Yankee,  French,  and 
international  vituperation  and  imprecation  they 
could  think  of,  but,  not  one  of  them  put  his 
foot  on  college  territory. 

Why  not? 

College  men  and  dwellers  in  college  towns 
are  familiar  with  the  peculiar  and  almost  unex- 
plainable  influence  that  college  confines  exert 
on  the  feelings  of  the  mob.  Even  five  hundred 
angry  men  would  not  venture  on  that  mysteri- 
ous territory,  a  college  campus.  I  have  not 
time,  I  have  not  inclination,  to  analyze  this 
silent  force  that  thus  holds  college  grounds 
sacred  from  trespass  by  the  mob.  I  simply 
tell  you  the  story. 

Even  when  the  captors  brought  the  cannon 

out  on  the  walk  before  South  College  a  little 

later  and  made  it  roar  sarcasm  and  ridicule  at 

those  who  owned   it,  though  its  red  eruptions 

3 


1 8  COLBY  STORIES 

disclosed  long  lines  of  convulsed  faces  yammer- 
ing beyond  the  bars  of  the  fence,  the  owners  of 
those  faces  did  nothing  but  curse,  and  when 
they  were  weary  of  cursing  they  strode  away 
into  the  darkness  still  cursing,  and  the  growl- 
ings  of  their  grumblings  echoed  along  all  the 
dark  streets  of  the  city  as  they  dispersed  to 
their  homes  that  night. 

But  not  an  alien  foot  profaned  the  magic  cir- 
cle of  the  Colby  campus. 


'A  product  not  uncommon  to  a  college  town  was  The  Girl." 


IN  THE   DAYS    OF  HAZING 

The  Girl  smiled.  It  was  a  habit  that  she  had, 
as  she  was  fully  aware  of  the  natural  advantages, 
including  a  bewitching  pair  of  dimples  and  an 
even  set  of  firm  white  teeth,  that  she  could  best 
exhibit  in  that  way.  She  also  knew  that  oppo- 
sition is  unpleasant  to  the  masculine  mind  and 
a  smile  betokens  assent,  although  when  The 
Girl  was  the  party  in  question  the  symbol  was 
often  a  very  misleading  one.  Many  an  awk- 
ward Freshman,  fierce  Sophomore,  dandified 
Junior,  and  even  dignified  Senior  had  suc- 
cumbed to  that  smile,  and  many  a  dinner  at 
Bradley's,  or  trip  up  the  smooth  flowing  Mes- 
salonskee,  had  it  won  for  her. 

A  product  not  uncommpn  to  a  college  town 
was  The  Girl.  Undeniably  a  flirt,  she  lived  in 
the  gilded  present,  nor  gave  a  thought  to  past 
victims  nor  to  the  future,  save  to  idly  wonder 
how  many  more  "  scalps  "  (for  in  such  classic 
manner  did  she  allude  to  photographs  of  former 


20  COLBY  STORIES 

swains)  would  be  added  to  the  collection  that 
now  almost  covered  the  walls  of  her  boudoir. 

The  Girl  was  not  alone  this  evening.  All  the 
other  girls  living  along  the  street  could  have 
told  you  this,  for,  as  they  would  have  said,  *'the 
sign  was  out."  The  sign  referred  to  was  a 
harmless  looking  pair  of  rubbers,  but  they 
would  as  effectually  drive  off  male  callers  as 
would  a  bulldog.  The  Girl  preferred  to  re- 
ceive her  masculine  friends  singly,  and  had  her 
callers  leave  their  rubbers  without  the  door, 
while  her  relatives  kept  theirs  within.  The  sig- 
nal was  well-known  and  universally  respected 
by  the  applicants  for  her  favor. 

The  Girl  was  a  close  confidante  of  the  college 
men  and  no  one  in  the  University  City  on  the 
Kennebec  was  more  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  doings  around  the  campus  and  the  various 
episodes  of  the  class-room  than  she.  From  the 
sturdy  youth  at  her  side  The  Girl  had  just  learned 
of  an  elaborate  plan,  about  to  be  carried  out  by 
the  Sophomores,  a  project  that  included  the 
abduction  of  one  of  the  Freshman  leaders,  and 
that  would,  so  the  bloody  Sophomore  thought, 
cast  undying  lustre  upon  the  name  of  his  class. 

It  was  nearing  the  end  of  the  fall  term,  and 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  HAZING  21 

the  year  was  in  the  early  nineties.  Hazing  at 
Colby  was  at  this  time  right  in  its  prime  and  as 
each  Freshman  class  had  a  very  hard  row  to 
hoe,  so  in  its  next  year  it  was  determined  to 
square  accounts  with  interest  upon  its  successor. 

Class-spirit  had  been  running  very  high  all 
the  term.  The  Freshman  class  was  large  in 
numbers,  having  about  sixty-five  men,  while 
the  Sophomores,  owing  to  several  reasons,  were 
reduced  to  about  thirty  as  a  working  force. 
Some  of  the  latter  class  were  out  teaching,  a 
few  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  hazing, 
while  the  unkindness  of  the  faculty  in  compel- 
ling a  temporary  eviction  of  several  members 
from  their  college  quarters  because  of  a  slight 
familiarity  with  tHe  chapel  seats,  had  still  fur- 
ther reduced  the  effectiveness  of  the  Sopho- 
more force. 

The  familiarity  above  mentioned  had  con- 
sisted of  the  application  of  a  large  quantity  of 
molasses  to  the  benches  on  which  the  Fresh- 
men listened  to  devotions,  it  being  the  idea 
of  the  sophomoric  mind  to  form  an  undying 
attachment  between  the  seats  of  the  Freshmen 
and  the  seats  of  the  Freshmen's  trousers.  Jan- 
itor Sam,  however,  was  on    hand    and  the  ex- 


22  COLBY  STORIES 

pected  denouement  did  not  occur.  Explana- 
tions were  in  order  and  the  members  of  '9- 
well  remember  the  afternoon  on  which  they 
were  sent  out  one  by  one  from  "Teddy's" 
French  recitation  to  undergo  a  rigid  cross- 
examination  from  President  Small.  The  culprits 
acknowledged  their  misdeed  rather  than  involve 
the  entire  class  and  were  granted  a  vacation  for 
the  remainder  of  the  term. 

The  Freshmen  were  not  satisfied  to  leave 
matters  here.  They  found  it  necessary  to  gloat 
over  the  discomfort  of  their  foes.  Sarcastic  ref- 
erences to  "  rustication  "  and  '*  molasses  "  flew 
about  the  campus.  "Phi  Chi"  was  chanted 
in  Freshmen  rooms  to  be  changed  to  Yankee 
Doodle  or  something  less  offensive  upon  Sopho- 
more appearance,  canes  were  surreptitiously 
carried  when  the  shades  of  night  had  fallen,  and 
on  a  memorable  occasion  one  was  borne 
across  the  campus  at  open  noonday.  It  was 
appropriated  this  time,  but  the  sting  of  Fresh- 
man defiance  rankled  in  the  breasts  of  the  sons 
of  '9—  and  at  last  the  grand  plan  was  evolved, 
the  splendid  scheme  for  the  abasement  of  the 
Freshmen,  that  The  Girl  by  a  shrewd  system  of 
questioning  had   just  enticed  from   her  friend, 


IN  THE   DAYS  OF  HAZING  23 

for  they  were  all  friends  to  her,  just  friends  and 
nothing  more. 

Smith,  the  Sophomore,  had  not  intended  to 
divulge  the  plan  of  his  class  when  he  visited 
The  Girl  that  evening.  A  swell  ball  had  been 
planned  by  the  college  men  and  Smith  wished 
The  Girl  to  accompany  him  and  to  wear  his  fra- 
ternity colors.  She  had  neither  accepted  nor 
refused  his  invitation  but,  keeping  him  on  the 
anxious  seat  as  was  her  tantalizing  custom,  had 
proceeded  to  harass  him  with  allusions  to  the 
daring  of  the  Freshmen  and  the  apathy  of  the 
Sophs.  This  was  particularly  galling  to  Smith, 
as  Brown,  the  leader  ol  the  Freshmen,  was  his 
most  detested  rival  in  The  Girl's  affection.  The 
badinage  had  the  desired  effect,  and  the  shrewd 
young  lady  was  soon  in  possession  of  all  the 
details. 

She  then  told  the  eager  swain  that  she  would 
don  his  colors  if  his  party  got  the  better  of  the 
Freshmen  in  the  abduction  project  and  hustled 
him  out  on  his  way  to  the  Bricks  as  she  ex- 
pected another  caller. 

Shortly  after  the  sophomoric  rubbers  were 
removed  from  the  front  porch,  they  were  re- 
placed by  another  pair  and  Brown  was  ushered 


24  COLBY  STORIES 

in.  It  is  sad  to  state  it,  but  he  was  soon  famil- 
iar with  the  designs  of  his  sophomoric  foes,  for 
The  Girl  wished  the  struggle  to  be  an  entertain- 
ing one.  Brown  also  proffered  his  request  to  be 
allowed  to  escort  his  hostess  to  the  ball  and 
that  she  wear  his  fraternity  colors  on  that  festive 
occasion.  Her  answer  was  similar  to  that  vouch- 
safed to  Smith.  And  thus  it  was  that  the  favor 
of  a  lady  was  involved  in  the  outcome  of  a 
hazing  episode. 

The  night  itself  was  dark  and  cloudy  and  as 
the  little  band  of  Sophomores  gathered  on  the 
campus,  they  felt  that  their  undertaking  was  a 
vast  one.  They  were  but  ten  in  number  due  to 
an  unexpected  defection  caused  by  faint  hearts. 
It  was  evident  that  the  Freshmen  realized  that 
something  was  in  the  wind  as  all  of  the  members 
of  the  class  who  had  rooms  down  town  were  at 
the  Bricks  this  evening.  Brown  was  hustling 
from  room  to  room  encouraging  his  cohorts  and 
telHng  them  (as  was  heard  at  the  keyhole  by 
a  listening  Sophomore  ear)  to  rush  for  the 
campus  if  they  should  hear  the  name  of  the  class 
year  ring  out  suddenly  in  the  still  night. 

And  then  Brown  placed  himself  in  the  hands 


IN   THE  DAYS  OF  HAZING  25 

of  the  enemy.  He  went  from  South  College 
over  to  North,  his  passage  being  marked  by  his 
would-be  abductors  who  crouched  shivering  be- 
hind Recitation  Hall.  Eagerly  they  awaited  his 
return.  Nearly  all  the  lights  were  out  in  the 
college  buildings.  Across  the  road  at  the 
restaurant  the  genial  Murray  had  locked  his 
door  as  the  night  pullman  had  long  since  rattled 
across  the  bridge. 

Out  in  the  road  was  an  express  wagon  driven 
by  one  who  knew  his  part  in  the  program. 

All  was  ready  and  then  the  bird  slipped  care- 
lessly into  the  net  of  the  fowler. 

Brown,  emerging  from  South  College,  met  a 
Sophomore  in  front  of  Recitation  Hall.  He  was 
halted  and  while  engaged  in  parley  with  the 
midnight  sentinel  there  came  a  rush  of  feet  from 
behind.  Brown  struck  out  wildly,  shrieked  for 
assistance,"  '9 — all  out, — Help  !"  and  was  picked 
up  and  hustled  toward  the  gate. 

Out  from  the  dormitories  rushed  the  Fresh- 
men in  answer  to  the  signal  they  had  so  long 
awaited.  Had  they  been  able  to  see  through 
the  darkness  they  might  have  discerned  a  kick- 
ing, squirming  mass  half  way  across  the  campus, 
but  the  darkness  was  too  intense  and  the  un- 


26  COLBY  STORIES 

sophisticated  Freshmen  here  fell  victims  to  the 
wiles  of  their  opponents. 

With  great  forethought,  Sophomores  had  been 
placed  in  front  of  each  dormitory.  As  the  Fresh- 
men rushed  out  into  the  darkness  they  were 
directed  to  the  other  college  by  these  sentinels 
and  for  a  minute  there  was  a  great  rushing  back 
and  forth.  The  Freshmen,  **they  raced  and 
they  ran,"  while  the  sophomoric  Lochinvars 
bore  their,  in  this  case,  unwilling  victim  to  where 
their  fiery  steed  was  in  waiting. 

At  last,  however,  the  Freshmen  made  a  rush 
for  the  road.  There  was  a  brief  scramble  and 
Brown  was  thrown  headfirst  into  the  bottom  of 
the  wagon,  a  couple  of  his  captors  sitting  on 
his  prostrate  figure.  Four  of  the  Sophs  met  the 
oncoming  rush  of  the  Freshman  hordes,  stand- 
ing them  off  for  a  second  only,  but  it  sufftced. 
The  whip  cracked  across  the  flank  of  the  pranc- 
ing horse  and  the  express  wagon  started  for 
Fairfield,  fruitlessly  pursued  to  the  railroad 
crossing  by  the  Freshmen,  who  were  finally 
obliged  to  abandon  their  chase  and  watch  the 
humiliating  spectacle  of  the  president  of  their 
class  being  borne  into  captivity  by  their  hered- 
itary foemen. 


.  .  The  unfortunate  Freshman  .  .  plunged  headforemost 
into  the  bank  on  the  other  side." 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  HAZING  27 

The  interest  of  the  reader  would  certainly  flag 
if  that  midnight  ride  were  described  in  detail. 
During  the  first  mile  or  two  Brown  attempted 
an  occasional  outcry,  but  his  captors  summarily 
squelched  such  attempts  by  sitting  on  his  head 
and  he  was  soon  glad  to  subside  into  silence. 

The  team  was  driven  a  mile  or  two  above 
Fairfield  Center  and  halted  where  a  high  board 
fence  crowned  a  deep  snow  bank.  Brown  was 
raised  from  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  by  eager 
hands.  Back  and  forth  he  was  swung  until  suf- 
ficient momentum  was  obtained  and  then  sky- 
ward he  flew.  Followed  by  shouts  of  derision 
the  unfortunate  Freshman  described  a  beautiful 
parabola,  and,  passing  high  above  the  top  rail 
of  the  fence  in  his  aerial  transit,  plunged  head- 
foremost into  the  bank  on  the  other  side  and 
entirely  disappeared  from  view,  only  a  flurry 
of  snow  marking  the  place  of  interment. 

But  not  for  long  did  the  infuriated  Freshman 
remain  in  his  snowy  sepulchre.  Gasping  and 
spluttering  he  soon  emerged,  and,  wallowing 
through  the  snow,  reached  the  fence.  With 
a  strength  accentuated  by  passion,  he  ripped  off 
the  top  tail  and  thus  armed  started  for  his  foe- 
men  ;   the  latter,  however,  did  not  wait  his  com- 


28  COLBY  STORIES 

ing,  but  laughing  with  unbridled  glee  at  the 
epithets  and  objurgations  hurled  after  them, 
drove  away  on  their  homeward  journey,  leaving 
their  erstwhile  captive  to  commence  his  pedes- 
trian act  to  the  Bricks,  six  long  and  weary  miles 
away. 

And  what  happened  at  the  colleges  during  this 
time  ?  There  had  certainly  been  plenty  of  excite- 
ment for  the  four  Sophomores  who  were  left 
behind  when  the  wagon  started.  For  a  moment 
they  were  a  bit  phased  at  their  predicament  but 
then  their  second-year  assurance  manifested 
itself  and  they  elbowed  their  way  through  the 
crowd  of  gaping  Freshmen,  too  overcome  by 
the  suddenness  of  the  affair  to  offer  to  detain 
them,  to  South  College,  and,  running  up  the 
stairs  to  a  room  in  the  south  division,  heaved  a 
sigh  of  relief  when  they  had  shot  the  heavy  bolt 
that  guarded  the  door  on  the  inside. 

But  not  long  were  they  allowed  to  rest  in 
their  fancied  security.  The  Freshmen  had  re- 
covered from  their  panic  and  the  desire  for 
revenge  ran  high.  They  promptly  decided  to 
capture  the  four  Sophs  and  introduce  them  to 
the  pump.    Up  the  stairs  of  South  College  they 


IN  THE   DAYS   OF  HAZING  29 

trooped,  some  sixty  in  number.  In  the  mean- 
time the  Seniors  and  Juniors  attracted  by  the 
noise  had  turned  out  to  watch  the  fun,  the 
latter  egging  the  Freshmen  on  with  their  usual 
promises  of  support  inspired,  not  by  any  love 
for  the  ''Freshies"  but  by  that  desire  of  wit- 
nessing a  rumpus  that  seems  inherent  in  Juniors. 
The  throng  of  avengers  sweeping  up  the  stairs, 
found  their  way  balked  by  the  strong  oak-door. 
They  clamored  for  admission  and  were  told 
from  within  that  they  would  receive  their  answer 
in  a  few  minutes. 

In  the  room  sat  the  four  Sophs,  not,  as  one 
would  suppose,  discussing  the  situation,  but 
awaiting  a  decision  from  the  owner  of  the  room. 

They  well  knew  the  purpose  of  the  Freshmen 
and  did  not  propose  to  yield,  but  left  it  to  J. 
to  say  whether  he  would  open  his  door  or  have 
it  battered  down,  for  there  seemed  no  other 
alternative. 

The  scene  that  followed  will  never  be  for- 
gotten by  the  Sophs  within  the  room.  J.  was 
an  intensely  religious  young  man  and  it  may 
seem  odd  that  he  was  to  be  found  implicated  in 
a  hazing  affair,  but  while  not  favoring  hazing  on 
general  principles,  he  was  far  more  violently  op- 


30  CO  LB  V  STORIES 

posed  to  the  exhibition  of  brashness  on  the  part 
of  Freshmen,  and  felt  that  an  effort  to  reduce 
such  freshness  was  a  legitimate  transaction. 
Now  J.  was  at  his  wits'  end.  He  was  in  doubt 
whether  to  open  his  door  and  humble  his  head 
to  the  smiter,  or  if  he  should  resist  to  the  last 
ounce  of  his  strength.  The  latter  course  more 
surely  appealed  to  his  manly  valor  and  pride, 
the  former  at  the  first  thought  seemed  more 
nearly  to  coincide  with  his  religious  ideals. 

J.  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands  and  re- 
mained a  minute  or  two  as  if  in  prayer,  regard- 
less of  the  growing  murmurs  in  the  passage 
without,  where  the  Freshmen  were  becoming 
impatient  of  the  delay,  but  had  not  reached  that 
pitch  of  supreme  boldness  at  which  they  must 
arrive  before  proceeding  to  emancipate  them- 
selves from  thraldom  by  breaking  in  the  door  of 
an  upper  classman. 

J.  raised  his  face  from  his  hands  and  upon 
his  features  was  a  look  of  defiance  which  clearly 
indicated  that  an  unalterable  decision  had  been 
taken  and  that  coercion  was  now  entirely  out  of 
the  question. 

He  strode  across  the  room  to  the  corner 
where  several  baseball  bats  were  resting  against 


"  With  this  announcement . . .  the  door  was  thrown  wide  open.' 


IN   THE   DAYS   OF  HAZING  3 1 

the  wall ;  grasping  a  club  firmly  in  his  hands 
with  the  style  of  the  practiced  ball  player  which 
he  was,  J.  took  his  position  in  front  of  the 
door,  and  thus  theatrically  but  forcibly  an- 
nounced his  decision  to  the  raging  crowd 
without : 

"  I  have  thought  the  matter  over  and  have 
come  to  a  decision.  You  ask  to  come  in  and 
say  'Open  the  door  or  we  will  break  it  down.' 
I  do  not  care  to  have  the  door  broken  so  I 
shall  open  it.  But  my  room  is  my  castle  and 
no  man  is  entitled  to  enter  without  my  permis- 
sion. I  extend  to  you  no  such  invitation  nor 
do  I  wish  your  company.  For  your  own  good 
I  will  state  that  I  stand  here  with  a  baseball  bat 
in  my  hands,  and  if  you  attempt  to  rush  in  when 
the  door  is  opened  the  first  man  will  get  a 
broken  head.  I  am  in  earnest  and  shall  do  as 
I  say.  If  you  try  to  come  in  you  must  take 
the  consequences,  and  I  beheve  that  the  law 
and  the  Lord  will  uphold  me  in  what  I  may  do." 

With  this  announcement  which  became  cele- 
brated in  the  annals  of  the  class  as  "  J's  Ulti- 
matum "  the  door  was  thrown  wide  open. 
About  three  feet  from  the  threshold  stood  J. 
with  his  bat  aloft  and  a  very  determined   look 


32  COLBY  STORIES 

upon  his  visage.  Without  were  grouped  the 
Freshmen,  irresohite,  undetermined.  There 
were  brave  men  among  them  and  they  disHked 
to  be  balked  of  their  prey  so  pubHcly.  But 
they  knew  J.  and  that  he  would  keep  his  word 
to  the  letter.  They  would  have  rushed  al- 
most any  other  man  in  college  in  a  similar  posi- 
tion, feeling  sure  that  he  would  surrender  rather 
than  run  the  chance  of  killing  a  man  in  his 
resistance.  But  J.  was  made  of  different  cali- 
bre from  ordinary  college  students,  and  while 
most  of  the  Freshmen  were  willing  to  follow, 
none  would  lead.  And  so  the  minutes  passed 
until,  ashamed  of  their  irresolution,  the  invaders 
gradually  retreated,  and  J.  and  his  colleagues 
were  at  ease  once  more. 

Nor  did  it  hurt  their  feelings  any  to  learn  a 
little  later  that  the  Freshmen  had  descended 
upon  the  Sophs  who  had  backed  out  of  the 
enterprise  of  the  evening  and  subjected  them  to 
a  bit  of  rough  treatment,  which  would  have 
terminated  with  a  trip  to  the  pump  but  for  the 
intervention  of  some  of  the  Seniors. 

'It  was  six  A.  M.  when  Brown  arrived  back  at 
the  campus  utterly  fagged  out  and  disgusted. 


IN  THE   DAYS   OF  HAZING  33 

He  had  tried  to  rouse  a  farmer  to  drive  him 
back  but  had  been  warned  off  the  premises  and 
threatened  with  a  charge  of  buckshot  in  case 
he  did  not  instantly  obey.  He  had  be«n  chased 
by  a  dog,  and  torn  his  clothes  and  fingers  on  a 
barbed  wire  fence. 

But  during  his  long  walk  home,  Brown  had 
been  steadily  conjuring  his  brain  for  some  plan 
of  revenge  upon  his  enemies,  and  ere  he  had 
arrived  at  the  college  gates  he  had  decided 
upon  a  course  of  action. 

At  that  time  the  board  of  conference  or  col- 
lege jury  had  just  been  established.  The  board 
was  composed  of  students  chosen  by  their  vari- 
ous classes  and  was  for  the  purpose  of  arbitrating 
differences  between  students,  preventing  the 
wanton  destruction  of  college  property,  etc. 

It  was  also  customary  to  assess  each  Sopho- 
more class  for  the  entire  cost  of  the  broken 
windows,  doors,  lamps,  and  other  damaged 
articles  around   the  college. 

Now,  Brown  had  discovered  a  slight  rent  in 
his  ulster  caused  by  contact  with  the  barbed 
wire.  Herein  lay  his  opportunity.  He  would 
put  in  a  bill  to  the  conference  board  demanding 
damages  of  $25  for  the  wanton  destruction  of 
4 


34  COLBY  STORIES 

his  property.  He  carried  out  his  plan  and  after 
a  fierce  but  fruitless  opposition  on  the  part  of 
the  Sophomores  of  the  board,  the  petition  of 
Brown  \\;as  granted,  and  a  few  weeks  later  the 
term  bills  of  the  Sophomores  contained  a  special 
item  of  66  cents  per  man  for  their  share  of  the 
purchase  money  of  a  new  ulster. 

The  evening  before  the  ball  at  length  arrived, 
and  at  the  appointed  hour,  Smith  and  Brown, 
the  eager  swains,  started  for  The  Girl's  home  for 
the  decision.  As  neither  knew  The  Girl  had  set 
the  same  hour  for  their  coming,  they  were  a 
little  surprised  to  find  themselves  traveling  down 
College  avenue  together  and  especially  that  their 
ways  did  not  part.  Each  was  stubborn,  how- 
ever, and  they  walked  along  until  the  termina- 
tion of  the  journey  was  reached.  The  Girl 
answered  the  bell  and  was  not  a  bit  put  out  to 
find  the  applicants  for  her  favor  coming  in  pairs. 
She  had  dealt  with  too  many  undergraduates 
before  and  rather  enjoyed  the  situation.  She 
ushered  them  in  and  entertained  them  merrily 
although  each  of  the  visitors  was  as  silent  as  the 
grave.  The  hours  passed.  Brown  and  Smith 
doggedly  setting  themselves  to  the  task  of  stay- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  HAZING  35 

ing  the  other  out  At  last  the  midnight  hour 
arrived  and  then  The  Girl  suddenly  arose.  In 
one  hand  she  held  the  blue  and  white  tassel,  in 
the  other  the  red,  yellow,  and  blue. 

*•  Each  of  you  gentlemen  has  asked  me  to 
wear  his  colors,"  said  she,  **  and  I  left  the  deci- 
sion to  your  wits.  I  find  that  honors  are  about 
equal,  one  is  about  equally  as  stupid  as  the 
other.  As  there  is  no  choice,  I  will  wear  both." 
And  so  saying,  to  the  intense  disgust  of 
her  visitors.  The  Girl  proceeded  to  fasten  both 
tassels  to  her  gown,  using  for  the  purpose  the 
glittering  society  emblem  of  a  third  fraternity. 
''  It  is  really  the  pin,  not  the  colors  that  count," 
she  remarked,  "  and  I  have  promised  to  go  to 
the  ball  with  Black  of  the  Junior  class,  who  is  a 
Gamma  Gamma  man,  you  know." 

It  was  the  last  straw.  Smith  and  Brown 
silently  arose,  reached  for  their  hats,  and  de- 
parted. The  night  air  finally  revived  them 
somewhat  and  on  their  way  to  the  Bricks  they 
formed  a  solemn  compact  and  as  a  result  the 
house  of  The  Girl  knew  them  no  more  during 
their  college  course. 


HOW  WALLY  WENT  TO    THE   FIRE 

"A  story  about  my  college  days?  Well,  let 
me  see ;  did  I  ever  tell  you  how  Wally  went  to 
the  fire?  You've  heard  me  speak  of  Walsing- 
ham, — he  was  a  round-cheeked,  dapper  little 
man,  who  always  dressed  well,  always  met  the 
world  with  a  smile,  and  always  did  everything 
in  quite  an  appropriate  and  regular  manner. 
One  night,  however,  chance  or  long  habit  led 
him  to  dress  his  part  too  faithfully,  and — but 
I  '11  begin  at  the  beginning. 

"  'T  was  the  night  of  the  annual  night-shirt 
parade,  which  is  never  premeditated,  and  never 
announced,  and  always  happens  spontaneously 
once  a  year.  It  had  been  a  stifling  day,  some- 
where about  the  middle  of  June,  and  even  at 
midnight  was  decidedly  warm.  The  heat  and 
the  impossibility  of  sleeping,  and  the  restless- 
ness that  marks  the  end  of  the  college  year, 
had  made  us  all  uneasy  that  evening,  and  those 
who  had  gone  to  bed  were  wondering  why  they 


HOW  WALLY  WENT  TO   THE  FIRE  37 

had  done  so.  All  at  once  someone  in  the  group 
still  lingering  on  the  steps  of  South  College  ex- 
claimed, *  Let 's  have  a  night-shirt  parade  !  ' 
The  suggestion  was  enough ;  the  others  took 
up  the  cry,  shouts  and  horn-blasts  roused  the 
inmates  of  the  dormitories,  and  in  fifteen  min- 
utes the  whole  college  was  out.  Even  Billy 
*  Grinds'  was  there  with  his  eye-shade  over  his 
forehead — the  man  who  stayed  in  from  the  base- 
ball games  to  study  Greek.  His  real  name  was 
Grimes,  and  it  was  a  disputed  point  whether  he 
wore  his  eye-shade  to  bed  or  not. 

**  Every  man  wore  a  night-shirt  over  his 
clothes,  every  man  had  a  tin  horn,  and  every 
man  was  an  oflficer  and  told  the  others  what  to 
do.  In  spite  of  this  last  difficulty  the  lines  were 
soon  formed,  and  our  white  clad  procession, 
ghostly  to  the  eye,  and  anything  but  ghostly  to 
the  ear,  tooted  and.  shouted  and  sang  its  way 
through  the  principal  streets  of  the  little  city. 
Some  hundreds,  at  least,  of  peaceful  citizens 
were  waked  from  sleep  by  a  tumult,  which  to  a 
less  hardened  community  would  have  suggested 
a  Ku  Klux  Klan  or  a  band  of  Indians,  accord- 
ing to  individual  imagination  and  taste  in  fiction. 
But  those  long-suffering  Watervillians,  with  the 


38  COLBY  STORIES 

usual  patience  of  dwellers  in  a  college  town, 
went  quietly  to  sleep  again,  murmuring  with  or 
without  an  expletive,  'It's  only  the  college 
boys  on  the  rampage.'  The  official  program 
closed  with  a  marvelous  concert  and  ghost- 
dance  on  the  lawn  next  the  president's  house, 
while  all  the  neighboring  residents  watched 
from  their  windows. 

**  But  the  unofficial  program  was  not  so 
soon  terminated.  With  an  enthusiasm  which 
few  of  us  ever  displayed  in  working  hours,  we 
all  set  to  work  changing  the  positions  of  vari- 
ous landmarks  about  the  campus,  to  try  the 
artistic  effects  of  a  new  arrangement.  We 
planted  the  neighboring  electric  car  station  on 
the  Library  steps;  moved  the  settees  from  the 
recitation  rooms  to  a  location  on  the  river  bank 
where  we  thought  the  scenery  more  inspiring 
than  the  blackboards  which  usually  confronted 
them ;  leaned  about  fifty  feet  of  circus  bill- 
board against  the  Freshman  side  of  the  chapel, 
so  that  all  might  read  the  legend  '  Greatest 
Show  on  Earth,'  and  stopped  to  wonder  what 
we  should  do  next. 

''Just  then  we  caught  sight  of  a  blaze  of 
yellow  light  over  the  tops  of  the  houses  toward 


HO  IV  WALLY  WENT  TO    THE  FIRE         39 

the  upper  end  of  the  city.  The  whole  crowd 
started  on  the  run  for  what  looked  like  an 
unusually  fine  fire.  But  before  we  had  gone 
far  it  became  evident  that  the  burning  building 
was  some  distance  out  in  the  country,  and 
most  of  the  boys,  one  by  one,  turned  back,  till 
four  of  us, — '  Hop '  and  Arthur  and  Wally  and 
I — found  ourselves  alone  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
city.  Wally  was  willing  to  turn  back,  too,  but 
we  told  him  the  fire  was  only  a  little  way  off 
across  the  fields  and  we  were  not  going  to  have 
our  run  for  nothing. 

"The  peculiar  thing  was  that  Wally  was 
bashful  about  going  back  without  us.  You 
see  he  was  in  bed  when  the  first  summons  to 
join  the  parade  was  howled  through  his  door, 
and  he  did  n't  stop  to  put  anything  on  under 
his  night-shirt.  The  rest  of  us  had  taken  our 
uniforms  off  before  the  fun  on  the  campus 
began,  but  Wally  could  n't  waste  time  to  dress, 
and  so  for  obvious  reasons  he  had  retained  what 
covering  he  had,  and  now  he  found  himself  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  Bricks,  in  night- 
shirt, eyeglasses,  cap,  and  shoes.  Somehow 
he  did  n't  seem  anxious  to  go  back  through  the 
streets  alone.     I  suppose  he  felt  as  if  our  conT- 


40  COLBY  STORIES 

pany  protected  him  from  the  *  blows  and  buffets 
of  the  world '  to  which  he  had  so  much  surface 
exposed.  At  any  rate  when  we  started  off  across 
the  fields  Wally  disconsolately  followed. 

'*  The  first  field  was  all  well  enough,  but 
when  we  climbed  the  fence  into  the  second  we 
found  ourselves  in  a  regular  jungle  of  bushes 
and  thorns.  Wally's  night-shirt  caught  on  the 
brambles,  his  bare  legs  were  scratched  and 
bruised,  his  glasses  tumbled  off.  When  the 
rest  of  us  had  struggled  through  the  tangle  we 
missed  him,  but  a  plaintive  voice  told  us  he  was 
near,  and  soon  we  caught  sight  of  his  white 
night-shirt  in  the  darkness  of  the  thicket,  shin- 
ing like  the  famous  bit  of  virtue  in  a  world  of  sin. 

"When  Wally  came  up  he  seemed  to  feel 
decidedly  grieved  with  us  and  the  world  in  gen- 
eral, and  he  began  to  reason  with  us  again  on 
the  subject  of  going  back.  But  'Hop'  pointed 
with  one  eloquent  gesture  at  the  thicket  behind 
and  Wally  said  no  more.  He  knew  that  if  he 
made  that  passage  again,  he  would  be  qualified, 
at  least  half  way  up  his  body,  for  the  position 
of  tattooed  man  in  a  side-show. 

*'  We  thought  the  worst  was  over  now  and 
pressed  eagerly  on.     We  found  ourselves  next 


HO IV  WALLY  WENT  TO    THE  FIRE         4 1 

in  a  hayfield  where  the  grass  was  up  to  our 
waists  and  dripping  with  dew.  In  two  minutes 
we  were  wet  to  the  skin  from  the  waist  down ; 
it  was  as  if  we  were  wading  in  three  feet  of 
•water.  Wally  did  n't  Hke  the  feehng  of  the  wet 
night-shirt  flapping  against  his  legs,  so  he 
carried  out  the  wading  idea  by  gathering  the 
garment  up  around  his  waist, — girding  up  his 
loins  like  the  prophets  of  old.  The  rear  view 
thus  presented  was  irresistibly  suggestive  of 
the  maternal  slipper,  and  no  doubt  if  Wally's 
mother  had  been  there  she  would  have  followed 
out  the  suggestion  most  vigorously. 

'*  We  waded  on,  through  field  after  field  of 
the  same  kind,  while  from  each  hilltop  the  fire 
seemed  further  off  than  ever.  When  we  started, 
it  was  not  more  than  half  a  mile  away;  now  it 
was  at  least  two  miles.  Wally  would  have  gone 
back  long  ago  but  for  the  thought  of  the  thicket 
behind,  and  the  terrors  of  a  solitary  passage 
through  the  city  streets  in  a  costume  more 
suited  to  the  time  than  to  the  place.  At  last 
the  hayfields  came  to  an  end,  and  we  comforted 
ourselves  with  the  thought  that  our  passage 
would  now  be  easier  at  least.  Wally  began  to 
grow  cold  so  *  Hop'  lent  him  a  coat,  and  the  up- 


42  COLBY  STORIES 

per  half  of  the  night-shirt  was  ecHpsed ;  the 
lower  half  still  flapped  disconsolately  about  his 
legs.  But  Wally  himself  had  grown  more 
cheerful  and  was  now  resolved  to  make  the 
best  of  a  difificult  situation.  ♦ 

''With  a  feeling  of  relief,  which  was  soon  to 
be  dissipated,  we  emerged  from  the  last  hayfield 
into  a  pasture,  whose  surface  was  a  succession 
of  rocks,  hollows,  and  mounds,  all  covered  with 
a  deceptive  growth  of  ferns  and  moss.  In  the 
dark  it  was  impossible  to  pick  our  way,  and 
every  now  and  then  Wally's  white  night-shirt 
would  disappear  from  sight,  as  he  stubbed  his 
toe  on  a  rock,  and  pitched  headlong  into  an  un- 
suspected abyss,  leaving  only  a  pair  of  waving 
legs  visible  to  mark  the  spot.  Each  time  he 
emerged,  a  little  more  soiled  and  bedraggled  but 
still  cheerful,  even  in  his  comments  on  the 
arrangement  of  the  landscape. 

"And  so  we  kept  on  until  the  twelve  labors 
of  Hercules  were  nothing  to  the  difficulties  we 
had  conquered.  At  last,  after  what  seemed 
hours  of  traveling,  we  came  to  a  road  !  And 
right  across  this  road,  twenty  rods  back,  was 
the  burning  house,  still  blazing  brightly.  Trium- 
phantly we  started  up  the  driveway,  but  there 


HOW  WALLY  WENT  TO    THE  FIRE         43 

in  the  light  of  the  fire,  seated  on  a  pile  of  fur- 
niture, Wally  caught  sight  of  a  girl.  Now  Wally 
was  a  modest  youth — in  spite  of  appearances — 
and  he  stopped  short.  Probably  the  girl's  ap- 
parel was  not  much  more  abundant  than 
Wally's  own,  but  the  outer  layer  at  least  was 
more  conventional,  and  Wally  could  not  bear 
the  thought  of  embarrassing  her.  So  he  sent 
the  rest  of  us  along  to  warm  ourselves  at  the  fire 
while  he  squatted  down  in  the  tall  grass  by  the 
roadside  and  rested  from  the  labors  of  his 
journey.  As  we  sat  on  a  log  before  the  blazing 
house,  and  questioned  the  family,  who  were 
sitting  motionless  and  silent,  watching  the  de- 
struction of  their  home,  we  could  see  Wally's 
round  cheeks  and  nicely  parted  hair  peeping  at 
us  over  the  tall  grass,  while  the  firelight  shone 
and  glistened  on  his  glasses. 

"  Before  long  we  were  astonished  to  see  three 
more  fellows  coming  up  the  driveway.  'Hop' 
remarked  that  he  would  not  have  believed  there 
were  three  more  such  fools  in  college.  When 
these  new-comers  caught  sight  of  Wally's  head 
above  the  tops  of  the  grass  they  stopped  to  in- 
vestigate what  seemed  to  be  a  new  style  of 
vegetation ;    and  when  they  recognized  Wally, 


44  COLBY  STORIES      ' 

they  took  pity  on  his  forlorn  condition  and  per- 
suaded him  that  his  costume  was  perfectly 
proper  and  presentable.  The  night-shirt  alone, 
they  said,  might  be  a  bit  unconventional,  al- 
though they  felt  sure  that  few  people  in  Water- 
ville  were  wearing  more  at  that  moment.  But 
they  pointed  out  that  Wally  had  on  other  gar- 
ments which  quite  altered  the  effect.  The  eye- 
glasses, in  their  opinion,  removed  any  suggesticn 
of  undress  and  no  one  could  deny  that  a  coat  was 
an  altogether  modest  and  conventional  garment. 

"■  Thus  persuaded,  Wally  overcame  his  scruples 
and  all  four  joined  us  on  the  log.  Whether  the 
inhabitants  of  that  region  were  accustomed  to 
wear  similarly  simple  costumes  on  their  even- 
ing rambles,  or  whether  misfortune  had  benumbed 
the  senses  of  the  little  group  of  people  who  sat 
there  among  their  household  gods,  I  have  never 
known ;  but  certain  it  is  that  not  a  word  or 
glance  betrayed  their  curiosity  at  Wally's  unique 
get  up,  or  deepened  the  blush  which  tinged  his 
cheek.  Indeed,  I  suspect  that  their  indifference 
cut  him  just  a  little,  for,  contrary  to  all  his  past 
experience  with  the  fair  sex,  the  girl  paid  ab- 
solutely no  attention  to  his  presence. 

"  But  this  temporary  annoyance  was  dispelled 


.   His  bare  legs  stretched  out  to  the  fire,  .  .  .  the  cigar  in 
his  mouth,  his  face  the  picture  of  peace  after  pain." 


HOW  IV ALLY  WENT  TO   THE   FIRE  45 

by  a  new  joy.  In  the  pocket  of  '  Hop's '  coat, 
Wally  found  a  cigar,  and  straightway  h'ghted  it 
with  a  brand  from  the  fire.  I  can  see  him  now 
as  he  sat  there  on  the  log,  his  bare  legs  stretched 
out  to  the  fire,  the  steam  rising  from  the  wet 
flaps  of  his  night-shirt,  the  cigar  in  his  mouth, 
his  face  the  picture  of  peace  after  pain. 

**An  hour  later  when  the  light  of  the  early 
morning  made  the  last  flames  of  the  dying  fire 
look  pale  behind  us,  a  milkman  driving  his  cart 
into  the  city  overtook  our  little  band  of  seven 
weary  travelers,  plodding  down  the  road.  Being 
a  kind-hearted  soul  he  offered  to  give  two  of  us 
a  ride,  and  the  lot  fell  to  Wally  and  me.  The 
milkman  cast  a  good  many  curious  and  medita- 
tive glances  at  Wally's  bare  legs,  but  our  gravity 
was  perfect  and  no  question  betrayed  his  curiosity. 
When  he  drove  into  College  avenue  and  pulled 
up  in  front  of  North  College,  Wally  climbed  out, 
thanked  our  benefactor  gravely  and  walked  up 
the  path  with  all  the  dignity  his  costume 
allowed.  The  milkman  looked  after  him  with 
with  a  curious  glance,  and  then  turned  to  me. 

"  'If  that  feller  belonged  to  me,'  he  said,  *  I 
should  n't  send  him  to  this  college.  I  sh'd 
locate  him  jest  a  little  further  down  river.' 


4^  COLBY  STORIES 

'''Down  river?'  I  enquired.  'Oh!  you 
mean  Bowdoin?  ' 

"'Wa'al,  no,'  the  man  said  slowly,  with  an 
oracular  wink, — '  it  was  the  Insane  Hospittle  I 
was  thinkin'  of." 


AN  IMPUTED   SIN 

"  The  gentleman  from  the  effete  East  will  tell 
a  story." 

I  was  seated  as  a  chance  guest  at  the  annual 
banquet  given  by  the  University  Club  of  a  bust- 
ling Michigan  city  last  winter.  Stories  and 
songs,  chiefly  of  college  days,  had  been  circling 
the  board,  and  I  had  listened  with  all  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  non-participant  secure  in  the  protec- 
tion of  my  obscurity. 

Suddenly  from  the  president's  lips  fell  the 
words  that  I  have  quoted.  I  became  conscious 
that  the  eyes  of  the  company  were  centered 
upon  me.  Before  I  quite  knew  what  was  hap- 
pening, I  found  myself  on  my  feet;  and  after  a 
wild  dive  into  my  mental  storage,  I  brought 
out  the  following  reminiscence  of  Colby,  which 
I  proceeded  to  tell  in  some  such  fashion  as  I 
here  repeat  it : 

Poets  are  of  two  kinds,  the  full-blooded  and 
the  anaemic ;    the  poets  from  excess  of  strength 


48  COLBY  STORIES 

and  the  poets  from  excess  of  weakness;  the 
poets  whose  overcharged  emotional  natures, 
unable  to  find  sufficient  outlet  in  action,  turn  to 
artistic  expression  as  a  safety-valve,  and  the 
poets,  who,  incapable  of  strong  feeling,  instinc- 
tively resort  to  the  stimulus  of  verse  to  supply 
their  emotional  deficiency. 

Eddy  Wildflower  was  a  poet  of  the  anaemic 
type.  He  entered  Colby  in  one  of  the  classes 
immediately  succeeding  mine,  that  is,  soon  after 
the  Centennial  year.  He  had  read  the  Colby 
Oracle  for  several  years,  and  he  had  devoured 
the  Colby  Echo  from  its  first  number  down  to 
the  date  of  his  entrance  examination.  He  knew 
by  heart  the  poems  of  the  distinguished  contrib- 
utors who  had  shed  a  glory  upon  those  publica- 
tions, and  it  was  the  strongest  yearning  of  his 
sub-freshman  existence  to  meet  face  to  face 
these  literary  Immortals. 

Eddy  was  himself  a  prolific  writer,  and  there 
was  no  kind  of  poetry  that  daunted  him.  It 
may  be  too  much  to  ask  that  a  poet  in  our  day 
should  invent  new  metrical  forms ;  but  we  cer- 
tainly have  a  right  to  demand  of  any  poet,  who 
forces  his  work  upon  our  attention,  that  it  shall 
contain  something  new,  a  fresh  fancy,  a  gleam 


AN  IMPUTED  SIN  49 

of  insight,  a  flash  of  imagination  illuminating 
some  depth  of  human  experience.  Any  such 
requisition,  however,  upon  the  creative  abih'ty 
of  Eddy  Wildflower  would  have  been  a  waste 
of  effort.  The  poetry  that  he  wrote  was  not 
the  product  of  his  own  communion  with 
nature  or  life,  but  the  mere  froth  that  ran  over 
when  he  had  filled  up  his  own  aesthetic  empti- 
ness from  the  springs  of  some  real  poet's  imagi- 
nation. Unflattering  as  this  description  may 
seem,  it  is  difificult  in  any  other  words  to  set 
forth  the  utterly  vapid  character  of  his  versifying. 
Eddy  once  quoted  to  me  the  anecdote  of 
Swinburne's  taking  a  stool  and  sitting  at  the 
feet  of  Browning,  though  for  his  part  he  deemed 
the  homage  due  the  other  way,  and  he  therefore 
sympathized  with  Browning's  comment,  while 
shocked  at  his  profanity,  in  calling  Swinburne  a 
"  damned  fool "  for  doing  it.  I  am  not  aware 
that  Eddy  ever  imitated  literally  this  act  of  his 
favorite  poet,  but  he  certainly  did  so  in  all 
other  senses.  To  every  college  poet — and 
were  we  not  in  those  days  at  Colby,  as  Dr. 
Johnson  said  of  Pembroke  college,  "  a  nest  of 
singing  birds?" — Eddy  Wildflower  offered  up 
the  most  persistent  and  abject  adoration.  He 
5 


50  COLBY  STORIES 

would  talk  with  us  by  the  hour  about  poetry 
and  poets,  never  venturing  an  opinion  himself 
that  had  not  the  sanction  of  triteness,  but  treas- 
uring our  remarks  as  if  they  were  the  poetic 
wisdom  of  Horace,  Boileau,  and  Pope  rolled 
into  one.  Fortunately  for  our  comfort  he  had 
not  a  scrap  of  pretense,  and,  strange  to  say,  he 
fully  understood  his  own  weakness  and  even  its 
emotional  source.  ''  Oh  !  if  I  could  only  suffer 
some  blighting,  blasting,  affliction,"  he  once 
said  to  me,  ''  be  crossed  in  love  and  nearly  go 
mad,  then  I  might  become  a  great  poet.  But 
I  am  afraid  such  good  luck  is  too  much  for  me 
to  hope  for.  However,  I  am  young  yet,  and  I 
sha'n't  despair."  I  told  him  that  if  he  only 
could  despair  it  might  fill  the  bill ;  but  he  an- 
swered with  a  sigh,  '*  Ah  !  if  I  only  could." 

In  outward  appearance  Wildflower  was  a 
well-built  fellow,  six  feet  tall,  with  an  intellec- 
tual head.  He  was  a  blonde,  wore  side  whis- 
kers and  a  moustache,  and  would  have  been  fine 
looking  had  it  not  been  for  a  weakness  that  per- 
vaded his  facial  expression  and  even  his  bodily 
movements.  He  was  too  lackadaisical  for  a 
scholar,  and  too  dawdling  to  care  for  athletics. 
The  only  exercise  he   ever  took  besides  sitting 


AN  IMPUTED  SIN  5 1 

on  the  river  bank — if  that  can  be  called  exer- 
cise— was  bowling,  and  once  while  he  was  en- 
gaged in  this  recreation,  the  crisis  of  his  life  oc- 
curred, the  incident  that  changed  his  whole 
career. 

It  was  a  dull,  cold  Saturday  morning  in 
spring.  Eddy  and  I  were  bowling  against 
Fritz  and  Jerry,  and  for  once  were  getting  a 
little  the  better  of  them.  Eddy's  face  shone 
with  triumph  and  perspiration,  and  he  was  just 
poising  a  ball  to  bowl  off  a  spare — ^.he  always 
used  small  balls,  as  he  disliked  the  exertion  of 
lifting  heavy  ones — when  the  door  of  the  gym- 
nasium flew  open,  and  Eddy's  roommate,  with 
three  or  four  other  fellows,  burst  in,  exclaiming, 
'•  You  've  got  to  look  out,  Eddy  !  The  father  of 
one  of  the  girls  in  your  school  last  winter  is 
down  here,  and  he  swears  by  ginger  he  will 
make  it  hot  for  you."  Eddy  dropped  his  ball, 
turned  as  white  as  chalk,  and  looked  as  if  he 
would  sink  upon  the  alley.  Finally  he  gasped, 
"  For  Heaven's  sake,  fellows,  what  must  I  do?  " 
"Oh!  we've  fixed  that  all  right,"  his  chum 
replied.  **Some  of  the  boys  took  him  over 
to  the  Library,  telling  him  you  would  probably 
be  there.     They  agreed  to  keep  him  out  of  the 


52  COLBY  STORIES 

way  for  half  an  hour.  The  best  thing  you  can 
do  is  to  pack  your  trunk  and  skip  on  the 
eleven  o'clock  train."  Eddy  wrung  his  chum's 
hand,  and  staggered  out  with  the  group,  cov- 
ering them  with  thanks,  and  vowing  that  no 
fellow  ever  had  such  faithful  friends. 

The  rest  of  us  followed  out  of  curiosity,  and 
we  all  went  up  to  Wildflower's  room,  where  we 
helped  him  pitch  his  things  into  his  trunk,  he 
all  the  time  talking  a  blue  streak,  one  moment 
pouring  out  protestations  of  gratitude,  and  the 
next  minute  eloquent  with  fear  lest  he  should 
be  caught  before  he  could  get  away.  Suddenly 
to  my  surprise,  for  I  was  not  in  the  secret, 
Eddy's  roommate  snickered,  and  the  others 
burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  Eddy  stood  still  for  a 
moment,  then  the  blood  rushed  into  his  face, 
and  he  seized  a  limp  Bible  which  happened  to 
be  near  his  hand — for  Eddy  was  a  Sunday- 
school  teacher — and  flung  it  so  quickly  and  with 
such  force  at  his  chum's  head  as  to  knock  him 
off  his  feet.  Eddy  then  snatched  up  the  spittoon 
and  threw  it  among  us,  yelling,  "■  Clear  out,  you 

!  "     We  were  all  so  appalled  by 

his  fury  and  his  profanity,  for  none  of  us   had 
ever  imagined  Eddy  knew   how  to  swear,  that 


AN  IMPUTED  SIN  53 

we  tumbled  over  each  other  in  a  rush  to  escape. 
Eddy  slammed  and  locked  the  door  behind  us, 
and  nobody  saw  him  again  until  Monday  morn- 
ing. Then  he  appeared  upon  the  campus  as 
calm  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  But  he  was 
a  changed  man,  or  rather  a  man,  from  that  time 
forth.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  he  wrote  no 
more  poetry  nor  even  mentioned  it,  nor,  so 
long  as  he  remained  in  college,  did  he  renew 
his  religious  associations. 

Strange  to  say,  the  boys  now  began  to  speak 
of  Eddy  with  a  certain  respect  as  if  he  were 
a  man  of  the  world  and  capable  of  self-assertion, 
even  before  it  became  evident  what  a  change 
the  occurrence  had  wrought  in  him.  Of  course 
everybody  at  the  time  put  the  worst  construc- 
tion on  the  incident;  but  afterwards,  in  thinking 
the  matter  over,  I  decided  that  his  natural  tim- 
idity alone  was  sufficient  to  have  caused  his  ter- 
rified behavior.  I  saw  no  reason  why  his  con- 
science need  have  had  anything  more  criminal 
to  reproach  him  with  than  indiscreet  words  of 
endearment,  or  possibly  caresses,  bestowed 
upon  some  too-willing  country  maiden,  which 
his  fears  had  magnified  at  the  moment  into  a 
claim  for  a  promise  of  marriage.     At  the  pres- 


54  COLBY  STORIES 

ent  time,  however,  in  reviewing  the  whole  affair, 
I  feel  confident  that  his  fright  had  not  even  this 
foundation,  but  was  the  result  of  a  stampede, 
pure  and  simple. 

The  next  morning  at  my  hotel  I  was  sui- 
prised  to  receive  a  call  from  the  president  of  the 
University  Club.  He  was  a  florid,  clean-shaven 
busines^  man,  a  lumber  dealer,  evidently  pros- 
perous, and  proud  of  his  success.  Disregard- 
ing the  meaningless  comment  on  the  weather 
with  which  I  essayed  to  open  the  conversation, 
he  began  at  once  with  the  subject  of  his  visit. 

"  When  you  started  in  last  night,"  he  said, 
*'  I  did  n't  see  what  you  were  driving  at.  But 
after  a  while  I  caught  on,  and  then  I  watched 
mighty  close  to  see  how  you  were  coming  out. 
You  had  the  whole  thing  right,  even  to  your 
solution  of  the  problem  at  the  end." 

I  stared  at  my  visitor  in  a  vain  puzzle  to  catch 
his  meaning.  But  he  went  on,  "  By  Jove, 
though,  I'm  glad  you  used  the  name  you  did. 
I  would  n't  have  that  story  get  out  here  for 
twice  the  amount  of  my  college  bills." 

At  last  a  light  flashed  in  upon  me.  I 
started  back  and  exclaimed,  "  Great  Caesar's 
ghost,  if  it  isn't  old  Sideboards!" 


NUMBER  'STEEN,  NORTH  COLLEGE 

This  room,  though  It  had  one  of  the  best 
locations  in  the  division,  had  been  unoccupied 
ever  since  I  entered  college ;  and  year  in,  year 
out,  it  had  collected  trunks,  broken  furniture, 
old  mattresses  and  dirt,  until  it  was  literally  full 
of  rubbish. 

The  room  had  the  reputation  of  being  "  hoo- 
dooed," among  the  boys,  but  little  was  said  on 
the  subject  as  no  one  cared  to  be  regarded  as 
superstitious;  they  merely  said  that  there  was 
something  unhealthy  about  the  room,  as  no  one 
had  stayed  in  it  long,  and  so  it  lay  neglected. 

A  Freshman,  however,  bought  it  and  furnished 
it  upon  entering  college,  but  after  the  first  week 
hurriedly  moved  out  and  could  scarcely  be  per- 
suaded to  enter  the  door  again.  I  liked  the 
location  of  the  room  and  when  I  wanted  to 
move  in  the  spring,  bought  it  from  the  Fresh- 
man, who  had  offered  it  at  a  very  low  figure. 
Before  the  transaction  was  complete,  however, 


56  COLBY  STORIES 

his  sense  of  honor  impelled  him  to  tell  me  sol- 
emnly that  the  room  was  haunted. 

''  Rats,  or  B.  B.'s?  "   I  inquired. 

''  No,  no,  ghosts,  as  I  live,"  he  answered  with 
a  look  of  terror.  *' It  groans,  and — Gad,  it's 
awful !  "  he  added  with  a  shudder. 

Now  my  ancestors  were  hard  headed  tillers  of 
the  soil,  who  believed  impHcitly  in  the  articles 
of  the  Baptist  faith,  the  Republican  party,  and 
the  Ziofis  Advocate,  but  they  were  not  given 
to  belief  in  the  supernatural.  I  had  paid  no 
attention  to  the  foolish  legends  that  the  room 
had  collected  along  with  its  dirt  and  rubbish, 
and  promptly  laughed  the  poor  Freshman  to 
scorn,  and  told  him  that  if  the  ghosts  were  thrown 
in,  I  'd  take  the  room  at  the  price  agreed  upon. 

The  first  few  evenings  spent  in  my  new  quar- 
ters were  peaceful  enough,  and  I  congratulated 
myself  on  the  bargain  I  had  made.  One  hot, 
tedious  afternoon  had  melted  into  evening  before 
I  left  my  work  in  the  laboratory.  I  had  bun- 
gled and  slopped  through  the  process  for  the 
metals  of  Group  II ;  I  had  missed  many  of 
them,  received  a  well-deserved  and  characteris- 
tic rebuke  in  consequence,  and  at  last  crawled 
out  into  the  fresh   air,  saturated  with  fumes  of 


NUMBER  'STEEN,  NORTH  COLLEGE        57 

hydrogen  sulphid,  smelling  and  feeling  very- 
like  a  bad  ^g^.  I  was  tired,  discouraged,  and 
disgusted.  I  decided  that  I  needed  diversion, 
so  I  donned  my  war  paint  and  went  calling. 

During  this  performance  I  was  called  upon  to 
admire  the  new  chafing-dish  of  my  hostess,  and 
forthwith  I  was  made  the  smiling  but  unwilling 
victim  of  her  first  Welsh  rarebit.  This  was  of 
the  delicate  consistency  of  a  rubber  door-mat, 
but  I  dared  not  refuse  and  returned  to  the 
Bricks  with  inward  misgivings. 

As  I  stumbled  into  the  darkness  of  my  room 
I  remembered  that  my  lamp  was  empty,  and  that 
I  had  failed  to  borrow  any  oil  in  the  division  as 
my  credit  was  bad ;  so  I  sank  into  my  arm- 
chair facing  the  windows  and  gazed  through 
the  swaying  foliage  of  the  trees,  at  a  couple  of 
arc  lights  that  blinked  sleepily  at  me  from  be- 
yond the  crossing.  I  reflected  sentimentally 
that  *'  she "  wore  a  very  becoming  dress  that 
evening,  and  then  I  thought  of  the  rarebit, — 
with  a  pang, — and  remembered  sadly  that  the 
Jamaica  ginger  bottle  stood  empty  on  the  shelf. 
I  do  n't  know  how  long  I  sat  there  staring 
dreamily  out  on  the  campus  when  a  misty 
something  formed  around  the  two  lights  which 


58  COLBY  STORIES 

now  glared  on  my  startled  vision  like  fearful 
eyes.  Then  a  nebulous  human  figure  became 
more  and  more  distinctly  visible,  sitting  in  my 
window-seat  directly  opposite  me. 

There  was  a  slow,  ponderous  clank  of  chains, 
and  then  a  most  indescribably  horrible  groan 
burst  from  the  shadowy  figure  before  me.  My 
hair  stood  stiffly  erect  and  a  chill  sweat  of  terror 
oozed  from  every  pore. 

It  was  the  ghost  at  last ! 

For  a  few  moments  I  was  too  frightened  to 
move  a  muscle,  but  I  thought  of  my  matter- 
of-fact  ancestors,  and  vowed  with  all  the 
strength  of  my  will  that  I  would  not  be  terrified 
by  anything  so  unreal  as  a  ghost.  As  soon  as 
I  could  steady  my  voice,  I  asked  my  visitor, 
with  a  feeble  attempt  at  a  sneer,  if  he  did  n't 
think  this  clanking-chain  act  rather  obsolete? 

"  These  are  n't  the  days  of  castles  and  dun- 
geon-keeps," I  expostulated.  '*  Now  a  real 
up-to-date  ghost,  like  an  up-to-date  wheel,  you 
know,  ought  to  be  chainless." 

The  ghost  looked  huffy  and  replied  in  a 
sepulchral  tone  that  he  supposed  that  was 
what  all  self-respecting  ghosts  were  accustomed 
to    do,   and    he  thought  he  did   it  pretty  well. 


NUMBER  'STEEN,  NORTH  COLLEGE        59 

seeing  he  had  n't  been  in  the  business  ten  years. 
He  admitted  that  it  was  rather  inconvenient 
hauhng  the  chain  around,  but  asked  me  what  I 
thought  of  his  groan,  and  promptly  shot  off  one 
for  my  edification.  Human  ear  never  heard 
such  a  sound ;  fiendish  hatred  and  utter  despair 
were  rolled  together  in  a  groan  that  froze  my 
blood  and  nearly  shattered  my  nerves. 

When  I  recovered,  I  stammered  that  the 
groan  was  a  good  one,  but  he  'd  better  save  it, 
then,  in  a  burst  of  vexation,  said  that  I  wished 
he  would  dispense  with  the  groan  as  well,  and 
asked  why  in  thunder  he  did  n't  rest  in  peace, 
instead  of  annoying  people  at  unearthly  hours, 
and  gave  him  to  understand  that  the  ghost  busi- 
ness itself  was  out  of  date  anyway. 

*'I  can't  rest,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "my  life 
was  a  terrible  tragedy."  Then  he  went  on  to 
say  that  this  was  his  old  room  in  college,  and  he 
intended  to  haunt  it  whether  I  liked  it  or  not. 
I  invited  him  to  go  to — well, where  he  came  from, 
but  the  hint  was  wholly  ignored.  Then,  with  a 
malicious  glance  of  those  glaring  eyes,  he  let  off 
another  of  his  fiendish  groans.  That  nearly 
finished  me,  and  when  I  caught  my  breath,  I 
hurriedly  changed  the   subject  and  asked  him  if 


6o  COLBY  STORIES 

he  would  just  as  soon  sit  somewhere  else,  as  on 
my  favorite  cushion  on  the  window-seat. 

**  You  see,"  I  explained,"  I  do  n't  want  to  get 
it  wet,  and  I  suppose  a  foggy  affair  like  you 
is  n't  perfectly  anhydrous." 

At  that  final  word  a  sudden  change  came 
over  him.  He  wobbled,  as  if  a  breeze  had 
struck  him,  the  entire  apparition  grew  fainter 
and  the  blazing  eyes  faded  with  a  look  of  ter- 
ror. That  word  hit  him  somewhere,  I  reflected. 
Chemistry  !  The  inspiration  struck  me  full  blast, 
and  I  asked  him  with  a  grin,  what  made  him 
*'  evaporate  to  one-third  of  his  former  bulk." 
He  had  just  started  one  of  his  knock-out  groans 
in  self-defence,  but  it  dwindled  off  into  a  dis- 
tressful moan. 

"Aw,  infantile V  I  snorted  contemptuously, 
"  I  call  that  bad  work,"  I  continued  with  a  most 
annihilating  drawl.  Now  the  ghost  was  the 
victim,  and  he  had  become  so  faint  as  to  be 
scarcely  visible.  I  even  pitied  him,  and  offered 
him  my  favorite  briar  pipe  to  help  him  regain 
his  density.  He  lighted  the  pipe  with  trem- 
bling fingers  and  dropped  the  burnt  match  to 
the  floor. 

"  Do  n't  you  know,"   I  fairly  yelled  at  him, 


NUMBER  'STEEN,  NORTH  COLLEGE        6l 

"  that  the  man  who  throws  a  match  on  the 
floor  is  a  Bungler}''  A  scarcely  audible  moan 
of  anguish  was  the  only  response,  and  the  pipe 
dropped  from  his  ghostly  fingers.  "  That  '11  do, 
thanks!"  I  shouted  in  stern  exultation.  "Next, 

pi ,"  but  the  ghost  had  feebly  flickered  and 

vanished,  and  the  next  I  heard  was  a  pounding 
upon  the  door,  as  I  struggled  for  consciousness 
with  the  sun  shining  brightly  on  the  trees  out- 
side my  window. 

The  fellows  who  roomed  above  me  wanted 
to  know  what  made  me  so  infernally  noisy  last 
night,  and  advised  me  to  take  the  pledge.  I  did, 
to  forever  abstain  from  Welsh  rarebit,  but  said 
nothing  of  my  experience.  I  browsed  around  the 
Library  that  afternoon,  and  looked  up  thoroughly 
the  history  of  '  Steen,  North  College.  It  ap- 
peared that  several  years  ago,  a  fellow  had  died 
there  in  the  spring  of  his  Junior  year  and  since 
then  the  room  had  not  been  popular.  I  found 
his  name  and  learned,  as  I  expected,  that  he 
had  elected  the  spring  Chemistry.    I  understood. 

I  have  never  been  disturbed  since  that  night, 
and  when  the  Freshman  asked  anxiously  if  I 
had  seen  the  ghost,  I  answered  oracularly  that 
I  had  -  laid  "  it. 


TOM  AND   SMITH 

One  day  in  July,  i860,  a  carriage  passed 
slowly  down  College  street  drawn  by  a  dusty 
black  horse,  and  containing  two  very  anxious 
looking  boys.  The  cause  of  their  anxiety  was 
twofold, — examination  next  day,  and  a  desire 
to  find  a  blacksmith  shop.  The  shop  was  soon 
discovered  and  a  shoe  set  on  the  said  horse. 
And  when  the  financier  of  the  duet  demurred  at 
the  price,  fifty  cents,  the  begrimed  son  of 
Vulcan  informed  them  that  it  was  *'  Commence- 
ment Week,"  and  horseshoeing  was  on  the 
cornua  taurorimi.  ^^  Dies  irae''  occurred  the 
next  day  in  the  Plutonean  abodes  of  the  old 
Chapel.  Teste  Lyford  cum  Prof.  Johnnie,  con- 
cerning which  ajitmtis  merninisse  horret. 

By  the  way,  the  platform  in  that  underground 
room  became  decayed  and  a  motherly-looking 
toad  had  a  home  there,  and  she  came  out  every 
day  to  hear  Waldron's  essay  in  the  rhetoric 
class.     One  summer  the  wicked   boys  put  ten 


TOM  AND  SMITH  63 

toads  under  the  platform  and  waited  for  the 
Prof,  to  come.  All  were  quiet  enough  till 
Brackett  began  to  read  Latin.  They  could  n't 
stand  that  anyhow,  so  out  they  came  and  hop- 
ped for  the  door  at  full  speed.  "The  effect 
was  electrical."  There  were  few  X*s  that  term. 
On  Commencement  Day  those  two  adven- 
turesome youths  were  allowed  to  follow  at  a 
respectful  distance  the  awe-inspiring  Sophs 
down  to  the  church.  The  boys  discovered  some 
very  original  characters  among  them.  During 
the  halt  of  the  procession,  one  of  the  Sophs 
stepped  back  and  asked  Smith  in  a  very  per- 
emptory manner,  **  How  did  you  get  that  hump 
on  your  back  ?"  Fresh  replied  that  the  Al- 
mighty had  put  it  there.  The  Soph  seemed  to 
be  astonished  that  it  should  have  been  done  with- 
out his  consent.  He  then  demanded  of  Tom — 
"Why  in  thunder  do  you  wear  glasses?"  Tom 
said  he  was  near-sighted.  The  Soph  was  still 
dissatisfied,  and  said  so.  We  will  call  said  Soph 
by  way  of  distinction,  "Judge."  There  used  to 
be  a  tradition  around  the  college  that  the  habit 
of  inquisitiveness  commenced  very  young  with 
the  "Judge."  His  first  inquiry  was,  why  he 
did  n't  have  two  mouths  as  well  as  two  eyes,  and 


64  COLBY  STORIES 

his  next  sentence  criticised  his  father  for  not  wear- 
ing more  clothes  on  the  top  of  his  head.  The 
''Judge"  still  retains  the  same  censorious  way  of 
looking  at  the  deeds  of  frail  humanity.  Very 
few  are  satisfied  with  his  estimate  of  their  moral 
turpitude. 

Soon  another  Soph  stepped  back  and  seemed 
anxious  to  know  where  they  had  left  their 
"horns"  when  they  came  to  college.  Smith 
timidly  asked  what  he  meant,  and  received  for 
an  answer  that  "cattle"  from  the  country  always 
had  horns.  Smith  replied  that  he  was  a  "buff- 
alo" and  did  n't  have  horns,  and  later  on  showed 
said  Soph  that  he  was  a  vigorous  kicker  if  he 
couldn't  hook. 

Another  small,  black-eyed,  black-haired, 
pretty  little  Soph  attracted  their  attention.  He 
said  nothing  to  them  but  every  hair  on  his  aris- 
tocratic head  seemed  to  say,  frocul^  -procul^ 
cste,  ye  Freshmen  !  Let's  call  him  Billy.  He 
is  a  great  man  now,  occupies  a  high  position, 
and  is  a  first-rate  fellow ;  glad  to  meet  any  of 
the  old  boys. 

The  two  Freshmen  looked  down  the  line  ahead 
and  noticed  in  the  Junior  class  a  dark-haired 
man,  tall,   rather    good    looking,   and    modest. 


TOM  AND  SMITH  65 

Smith  afterward  learned  that  the  name  of  that 
Junior  was  Isaiah  Record.  Later  he  roomed 
opposite  him  in  North  College ;  he  further 
learned  that  Mr.  Record  was  the  noblest  man 
he  ever  knew.  Conscience  in  him  was  the  rul- 
ing power.     Nor  was  he  a  cad. 

On  one  occasion  when  the  faculty,  disregard- 
ing the  wise  counsels  of  the  students,  employed 
an  unregenerate  man  to  cut  the  grass  on  the 
campus,  the  boys  sent  Somnus  to  the  ivory 
gate  and  helped  the  faculty  out  by  cutting  the 
grass  themselves  by  moonlight.  Every  boy 
practiced  in  that  star-pictured  gym.  that  night, 
Record  and  Barker  excepted.  Barker  unfortu- 
nately slept  over,  and  Record  stayed  in  his  room 
and  interviewed  conscience.  He  reproved  no 
one  in  the  matter,  and  it  was  all  talked  over 
before  him  with  perfect  freedom.  There  was 
no  pharasaical  spirit  in  him.  In  after  years 
Smith  sat  by  his  bedside,  with  tears  coursing 
down  his  face,  received  his  last  farewells, 
and  has  found  less  on  earth  to  enjoy  ever  since. 

A  strange  circumstance  was  connected  with 

Mr.  Record's  funeral.     At   one  commencement, 

Annie  Louise  Carey  sang.     In  the  gallery  sat 

Isaiah  Record,  Rev.  A.  C.  Herrick,  Paymaster 

6 


66  COLBY  STORIES 

Barton,  U.  S.  N.,  and  Smith.  At  the  close  of 
the  concert,  the  four  adjourned  to  the  hotel  and 
talked  till  two  o'clock.  They  were  to  separate 
next  morning.  One  was  going. to  Japan,  one 
to  California,  Record  to  Houlton,  and  Smith  to 
Massachusetts.  As  they  parted  that  night  Mr. 
Record  said,  ''When  shall  we  four  meet  again?" 
One  dark  day  later,  the  body  of  Isaiah  Record 
lay  at  rest  in  a  casket,  in  the  vestibule  of  the 
church  at  Houlton.  Gazing  sadly  down  upon 
those  noble  features,  stood  Smith,  when  upon 
the  right  and  left  stepped  simultaneously  Mr. 
Barton  and  Mr.  Herrick,  and  as  they  mutely 
and  tearfully  clasped  hands,  they  felt  they  had 
all  met  again. 

The  peculiar  laugh  of  a  Soph  attracted  the 
boys'  attention  next.  He  had  a  perfect  Grecian 
face  and  a  smile  that  was  exhilarating.  Some 
one  called  him  Thomas.  He  was  a  fine  fellow 
and  liked  a  joke.  One  day  the  president  called 
him  up  on  review  in  Butler's  Analogy  and  told 
him  to  pass  on  to  the  "■  Future  Life."  Thomas 
promptly  responded,  ''Not  prepared,  sir." 

They  noticed  a  Junior  there  with  a  sort  of 
Cassius  face.  He  thought  too  much — about 
his  little  "girl,"  and  was  quite  jealous.     So,  to 


TOM  AND  SMITH  67 

keep  guard  over  her,  he  sent  his  chum  up  one 
winter  to  teach  school  in  the  district  where  she 
Hved.  Before  the  term  was  over  said  chum  was 
engaged  to  the  fickle  fair  one. 

The  boys  did  not  room  together  next  term. 

Gazing  further  down  the  line  Smith  saw  what 
seemed  a  human  head  seated  on  top  of  a  tall 
pole,  but  a  rift  in  the  crowd  showed  that  it  was 
a  human  form  divine,  but  not  *' divinely  fair." 
He  heard  "  Mac  "  declaim  later  on  in  the  Chapel 
when  he,  with  his  head  ad  astras,  in  a  sort  of 
piping,  grunting  voice,  said — "It  is  strange  how 
little  some  people  know  about  the  stars." 

Had  "Mac"  lived  in  Job's  days  he  could 
have  sung  with  the  "  Morning  Stars." 

While  waiting  at  the  church  Smith  took  a 
good  look  at  his  classmates.  Near  him  stood 
Seeley, — a  harmless  little  fellow.  He  had  a 
brother  in  the  Sophomore  class  who  was  a  genius. 
He  went  up  into  Aroostook  county  to  farm  and 
preach.  He  was  a  far  better  farmer  than 
preacher.  He  made  a  failure  of  farming.  One 
day  he  was  ploughing  on  the  side  of  a  steep  hill 
with  a  pair  of  steers.  The  cattle  were  untrained 
and  he  did  n't  know  how  to  drive.  The  steers 
would  "turn  the  yoke,"  thus  half  the  time  they 


68  COLBY  STORIES 

faced  the  plow.  To  prevent  this  movement  he 
tied  their  tails  together,  and  at  noon  unyoked 
them  thus  united  a  tergo.  One  started  east, 
the  other  west.  For  a  time  action  and  reaction 
were  equal ;  at  last  one  fell  down,  the  other 
hauled  him  down  the  mountain  by  the  adhesive 
force  of  the  caudal  vertebrae. 

The  sight  was  inspiring.  The  hos  on  -pedes^ 
ferens  caput  altuvi  cormbus,  snorting  victory 
with  every  wild  leap ;  the  bos  on  dorsum,  roar- 
ing with  disgust  and  marking  the  dust  with  his 
horns  like  Hector's  spear. 

Brother  Seeley  gazed  calmly  on  the  scene 
and  gently  whispered,  **  Descensus  Aver  no 
facile  est,''  and  the  next  Sabbath  took  for  his 
text — *'Be  not  unequally  yoked  together." 

Next  to  Seeley  stood  a  tall,  finely  propor- 
tioned man  who  to-day  wears  the  insignia  of  a 
Major  General,  U.  S.  A.,— H.  C.  Merriam.  He 
and  Smith  were  great  friends  later  on  ;  Merriam 
liked  a  joke  and  so  did  Smith.  In  those  days 
the  Junior  class  doled  out  an  original  declamation 
in  the  Chapel  every  spring.  The  other  classes 
must  attend  or  be  fined  ten  cents.  The  whole 
thing  was  a  bore.  The  night  before  '63  spoke, 
Merriam  and  Smith  went  down  town  and  "bor- 


TOM  AND  SMITH  69 

rowed"  from  Mr.  Merryfield's  back  shop  a  huge 
cloth  sign. 

The  heraldic  emblem  on  said  cloth  was  a  life- 
size  picture  of  an  elephant.  The  boys  added 
a  legend,  reading,  ''Elephant  Show — $.10 
admission,"  and  nailed  the  advertisement  high 
above  the  Chapel  door.  The  third-year  men 
were  not  pleased  a  whit,  but  the  Profs  thought 
it  a  grand  good  joke.  You  see,  they  were  not 
in  it. 

If  the  General  sees  this  I  hope  he  will  not 
give  Smith  away.  The  General  was  a  good 
scholar  and  wrote  poetry  sometimes.  There 
were  two  or  three  more  poets  in  the  class. 
They  belonged  to  different  schools  of  poetry. 
David  said  if  he  got  the  rhyme  all  right,  he 
did  n't  care  for  the  metre.  Harry  said  if  he  got 
the  metre  all  right,  he  did  n't  care  for  the  rhyme. 
And  Smith  also  wrote  one  poetic  translation  of 
Horace.  It  was  Ode  XVI,  and  here  is  a  speci- 
men of  it: 

O !  bewitching  filia, 
Handsomer  than  your  mamma  ! 
How  could  I  such  an  onus  prove 
To  write  Iambics  'bout  my  love  ! 
Burn  those  verses,  every  speck; 


70  COLB  V  STORIES 

Dump  them  in  the  Kennebec. 
When  Prometheus  made  my  head, 
Softer  than  a  loaf  of  bread, 
In  my  bosom  he  put  this  : 
Vi7n  insatii  leonis. 

Smith  bet  the  peanuts  he  would  read  it  in  the 
class.  Prof.  Foster  was  rash  enough  to  call  him 
up  on  the  advance  and  Smith  read  the  whole 
thing  through. 

**  Sit  down,  young  man  !" 

Result — Ten  minus  the  one. 

Smith  never  wrote  poetry  afterwards. 

Near  by  stood  Mayo.  He  was  a  very  rigid 
man  in  morals.  One  night  when  "■  town  and 
gown  "  were  discussing  how  hard  a  blow  it  re- 
quired to  paralyze  the  brain,  Mayo  received  a 
severe  shock  from  a  club  in  the  hands  of  a 
''yager."  He  brought  up  reinforcements  and 
threw  said  "yager"  into  a  muddy  pool.  The 
"yager"  naturally  swore.  Mayo  remarked, 
"Look  here,  this  is  a  Baptist  institution  and 
swearing  is  not  allowed.  Chuck  him  in  again, 
boys  !"  And  in  he  went  until  the  profanity  was 
all  washed  out  of  him. 

A  little  behind  stood  Young  of  Calais.  He 
had  a  witty  way  of  putting  things.     When  Wes- 


TOM  AND  SMITH  7 1 

ton's  name  appeared  in  the  catalogue  with  a  f 
before  it,  Young  said,  "•  Weston  must  be  a 
mighty  good    man;   he   bears  his  cross  daily." 

Just  behind  Tom  stood  a  girlish-looking  boy. 
His  name  was  Littlefield.  Studious,  talented, 
he  carried  off  most  of  the  honors.  He  was  very 
absent  minded.  A  club  of  twelve  once  boarded 
with  a  lady  who  frequently  reminded  them  that 
she  had  seen  better  days.  Before  the  term  was 
over  the  boys  thought  they  had.  Now  there 
boarded  at  the  place  a  very  prim  lady  whose 
age  had  never  been  accurately  ascertained.  Lit- 
tlefield sat  beside  her.  One  day  in  the  heat 
of  argument  he  placed  his  arm  on  the  back  of 
her  chair.  She  sat  up  a  little  primly ;  he  became 
a  little  excited  and  proceeded  to  put  his  arm 
around  her,  and  soon  was  emphasizing  every 
remark  by  an  unmistakable  hug,  all  unconscious 
that  he  was  disregarding  proprieties.  Smith 
will  never  forget  the  expression  on  that  woman's 
face.  Glorious  Littlefield  !  The  daisies  adorn 
his  grave  to-day. 
*♦  Green  be  the  Uirf  above  thee,  friend  of  my  better  days." 

Just  here  the  procession  moved  on ;  the  two 
boys  were  lost  in  the  crowd  and  Smith  has 
never  emerged  therefrom. 


THE  FRESHMAN  DELUGE 

"  Forsan  et  haec  oUni  meminisse  juvabity — Virgil. 
"We  cannot  buy  witli  gold  the  old  associations." 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and  the  Hght  was 
waning.  From  across  the  campus  in  front  of 
the  college,  shot  a  few  lingering  beams,  feebly 
struggling  at  a  game  of  hide-and-seek  on  the 
walls  of  Champlin  Hall.  Like  over-excited  chil- 
dren, they  seemed  reluctant  to  leave  even  for  a 
night's  repose  their  classic  playground. 

Within,  an  indefinable  restlessness  pervaded 
the  oblong  Greek  recitation-room ;  even  the 
marble  bust  of  Aristophanes,  on  the  corner 
bracket,  felt  the  subtle  influence,  and  appeared 
anxious  to  be  off,  to  give  to  the  world  one  more 
comedy — that  of  a  typical  Freshman  Greek 
recitation,  for  in  such  an  effort  he  fancied  his 
greatest  bid  for  immortality. 

'^Nichols!" 

A  hurried  turning  of  leaves,  and  a  whispered, 
"Third  paragraph  on  the  forty-third  page,  sec- 


THE  FRESHMAN  DELUGE  73 

ond  line,"  from  the  seat  directly  behind  him, 
inaugurated  the  preliminaries  of  an  exceedingly 
free  translation,  which,  perhaps,  was  eminently 
proper  in  reading  the  work  of  so  free  an  histo- 
rian as  the  author  in  hand. 

As  Nichols  painfully  arose,  a  martyr  to  the 
whimsical  notion  of  an  unfeeling  professor, 
Reynolds  moved  anxiously  on  his  end  of  the 
front  settee,  at  the  same  moment  taking  out  for 
the  who-could-tellth-time  his  watch. 

**  Ten  minutes  more,"  he  said  slowly  to  him- 
self, accompanied  by  the  monotonous  tick,  tick, 
tick  !  "  If  I'm  destined  to  be  hanged  I  want 
my  last  moments  spent  in  a  recitation-room — 
they'll  never  pass  !  I  have  n't  looked  at  the  les- 
son, and  I  knew  'twas  my  day  to  be  pulled. 
Profess,"  he  added  irreverently,  ''hasn't  'shuf- 
fled' his  cards  for  the  month — I'm  due  Tuesdays 
and  Fridays — and  I  know  mine's  at  the  bottom. 
Did  n't  s'pose  he'd  get  'round  to  it  this  after- 
noon, though !" 

He  whispered  to  "  Steve"  in  the  seat  beside 
him. 

"  Say,  old  man,  get  him  started  on  explain- 
ing the  use  of  the  infinitive  after  irpiv.  He'd  be 
on  to  me  if  I  suggested  it,  but  if  you  ask  him 


74  COLBY  STORIES 

'twill  save  me  from  a  dead  flunk;  besides,  your 
interest  in  the  subject  will  score  you  an  x." 

The  last  card  was  in  the  professor's  hand — 
number  twelve  was  absent — when  the  bell  an- 
nouncing the  end  of  the  recitation  period  reluc- 
tantly rang. 

The  professor  quietly  closed  his  ''Herodotus," 
and  surreptitiously  reached  his  hand  under  the 
desk  for  a  "hid  treasure." 

Like  the  dislodgment  of  long  pent-up  debris 
in  a  swollen  current,  the  class  of  '92,  on  being 
dismissed,  rushed  headlong  from  the  room. 

Bonney  turned  as  he  reached  the  entrance  to 
the  Boardman  missionary  room,  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously restrained  by  the  influence  of  the  place, 
then  noticing  the  diminutive  female  portion  of 
the  class  hesitating  for  a  moment  on  the  land- 
ing, led  in  a  boisterous  chorus,  "Oh,  the  co-eds 
they  grow  small  in  '92  ! " 

Sam  was  just  emerging  from  South  College. 
He  stopped,  turned  his  head,  listened  a  mo- 
ment, and  chuckled,  ducking  his  head  the  while, 
"Pretty  good  boys  on  de  whole,  only  dey  don' 
know  what's  spected  ob 'em."  Then  shaking  his 
head  prophetically,  "Dey'll  learn — Soph'mores 
haint  all  dead  by  no  means ;   dey's  got  one  eye 


THE  FRESHMAN  DELUGE  75 

open  !  An'  de  ol'  jan'tor,  he's  libin,'  an'  jes' 
got  to  show  dem  where  dey  b  'long." 

Still  chuckling  intermittently,  he  slowly  turned 
towards  Memorial  Hall.     Suddenly  he  stopped. 

In  front  of  North  College  the  ^entire  Fresh- 
man class  had  collected. 

"  There's  a  baby  born  in  Colby,  boys,  way  back  in  sixty- 
four  ; 

She's  thundered  for  admittance  at  many  a  Freshman's 
door. 

But  thanks  to  God  and  '92  she'll  live  forevermore. 

For  Phi  Chi  is  in  her  ancient  glory." 

Sam  bent  almost  double  with  suppressed 
merriment,  not  unmixed  with  just  surprise. 

"Dey'U  pay  fo'  singin'  dat — mind  what  de  ol' 
jan'tor  tell  yo'  !      Gettin'  too  fresh." 

This  last  was  hardly  audible,  lest  the  elms 
along  the  walk  should  hear  it,  and  silently  ac- 
cuse him — him,  the  friend  of  every  Colby  stu- 
dent— of  treason,  to  the  gossiping  breeze  as  it 
loitered  by. 

Not  a  Sophomore  appeared. 

"  Brave  class,  those  ninety-oners  !"  exclaimed 
Nichols  ironically. 

'*  Better  get  their  co-eds  out,"  laughed  Graves 
in  derisidh.     "They'll  show  more  sand.     Say, 


76  COLBY  STORIES 

fellows,  let's  go  down  to  the  'roost'  and  sing  to 
them." 

"  Oh,  they're  all  of  a  kind — the  Sophomores," 
and  Donovan  tossed  his  Greek  lexicon  over  to 
Smith,  who  was  standing  on  the  steps,  and 
started  down  town. 

During  supper  a  hurriedly  written  note  found 
its  way  under  each  Sophomore's  door. 

"Meet  in  Parson's  room  at  8  130  sharp,"  it 
read.      "  Don't  make  any  noise  in  the  halls." 

At  the  appointed  time,  as  a  step  was  heard  at 
No.  6,  the  door  softly  opened,  and  a  ninety- 
one  man  glided  silently  in. 

**  Wonder  if  we  are  all  here,"  and  Whit,  the 
acknowledged  leader  of  the  class,  took  a  mental 
inventory  of  the  faces  before  him. 

''All  but  Chip;  he  couldn't  come.  Had  an 
errand  to  do  for  Professor  Elder,"  and  Norman 
had  surveyed  the  crouching  forms  in  the  four  cor- 
ners of  the  room,  before  Whit  had  even  reached 
the  sofa,  in  his  deliberate  calculation. 

"  I  suppose,  gentlemen,  you  know  the  cause 
of  our  gathering,"  and  Whit  leaned  carelessly 
against  the  book-case. 

"  Better  pull  down  the  side  curtain  a  trifle 
lower;    any  one  can  see  in  just  like  a  fly,"  sug- 


THE  FRESHMAN  DELUGE  77 

gested  Luce,  pointing  to  an  uncovered  space  in 
the  lower  lights  of  the  east  window. 

**  Probably  because  we  decided  not  to  ob- 
serve Bloody  Monday,  and  discussed  the  advis- 
ability of  discontinuing  the  False  Orders,  the 
Freshmen  think  we're  dead  game.  All  along 
they've  been  grow^'ng  bolder,  and  this  afternoon, 
as  you  know,  they  reached  the  end  of  their 
rope.  If  two  thirds  of  the  class  had  been  here 
— well,  some  one  would  have  paid  the  fiddler, 
and  I'll  be  willing  to  wager  'twould  be  the  ones 
that  did  the  dancing. 

**  They  knew  most  of  our  fellows  were  down 
town,  so  their  singing  Phi  Chi,  and  giving 
the  Sophomore  yell,  did  n't  show  a  great 
amount  of  unpremeditated  bravery." 

'*  It's  high  time  they  were  taught  a  thing  or 
two,"  interrupted  Luce  emphatically.  "What'd 
we  better  do  ?  " 

The  discussion  was  long  and  animated. 

"  Give  them  a  sufficient  dose  this  time,  and  a 
second  application  won't  be  necessary.  I  be- 
lieve in  doing  the  kill-or-cure  act  at  the  appear- 
ance of  the  first  symptoms,"  and  Morse,  as 
though  to  further  his  argument,  brought  his 
hand  down  vigorously  on  Gorham^s  shoulder. 


78  COLBY  STORIES 

"■  Gad,  man,  I  'm  not  a  Fresh  !  " 

Before  leaving  the  room  a  plan  was  decided 
on,  a  "  water  cure "  being  the  remedy  pre- 
scribed. 

'*  I  wonder  if  we  all  understand.  We  don't 
want  any  bungling  in  the  matter — 'twould  spoil 
the  whole  thing.  You  're  all  to  get  ready  the 
minute  the  squad  leader  raps.  By  the  way, 
you  'd  better  not  lock  your  doors — perhaps  it 
might  occasion  less  noise,  and,  on  the  whole, 
be  safer  for  us." 

Whit  took  out  his  memorandum. 

"  You  have  the  first  squad,  Luce, — first  two 
floors  of  the  north  end  of  North  College.  Gor- 
ham,  you  have  the  third  and  fourth  floors. 
First  and  second  floors,  south  end,  are  yours, 
Mugg;   you  have  the  other  two,  Dick. 

"  Now  for  South  College.  I  '11  take  all  the 
north  end,"  and  Whit  looked  around  to  see  if 
all  his  men  were  there.  ''  The  south  end,  first 
two  floors,  are  Watson's,  the  other  two  are 
yours,  Bassett.  Now  I  imagine  everything  is 
clear." 

''  Don't  make  the  slightest  noise  getting  to 
the  river,"  cautioned  Foster,  as  he  arose  from 
his  cramped  position  on  the  dictionary.     ''  And 


THE  FRESHMAN  DELUGE  79 

be  sure  to  have  the  pails  where  you  can  lay 
your  hands  on  them  in  an  instant." 

"  Better  go  out  singly,"  suggested  Mathews, 
with  one  hand  on  the  door  knob.  '*  If  we  should 
be^seen  together  it  might  create  suspicion." 

"Twelve  o'clock,  sharp!"  and  Whit  threw 
himself  down  on  the  sofa. 

"They'll  sing,  'We'll  hang  our  clothes  on  a 
hickory  limb,'  in  the  morning,"  he  laughed. 

At  midnight  the  historic  Boardman  willows, 
forming  a  graceful  avenue  down  to  the  Kenne- 
bec, guarded  on  either  side  a  strange  procession, 
separated  by  fives  into  individual  squads,  each 
one  a  few  feet  ahead  of  that  immediately  follow- 
ing. 

If  it  were  not  for  the  dissimilarity  in  costume, 
from  the  pails  they  carried  one  might  judge 
them  to  be  an  ocean  steamer's  fire  brigade  out 
on  practice  duty. 

Quietly  they  formed  in  line  at  the  water's 
edge,  and  silently  filled  their  pails  from  the 
flowing  stream. 

"  My !  it 's  cold,  though,"  whispered  Gor- 
ham,  as  he  slipped  on  a  smooth  pebble,  thus 
plunging  his  arm  to  the  elbow  into  the  moving 
current. 


8o  COLBY  STORIES 

"  The  colder  the  better  for  swelled  heads," 
chuckled  Luce.  ''Mighty  fine  for  that  kind  of 
inflammation  !  " 

The  procession  was  not  long  in  re-forming, 
and  silently,  like  Druids  of  old,  marched  slowly 
up  the  path,  under  the  overhanging  willow 
branches,  that  fell  like  a  benediction  over  the 
determined  men.  Who  can  say  that  they  did  n't 
show  their  sympathy  for  the  vindication  of 
Sophomoric  rights  ! 

At  the  rear  of  Champlin  Hall  the  procession 
parted,  one  division  cautiously  working  its  way 
around  North  College ;  the  other  moving  grue- 
somely  towards  the  sister  dormitory. 

**Be  careful  of  noise  in  the  halls,"  came  the 
whispered  command  from  Whit.  "  Every  squad 
wait  by  each  Freshman's  door  till  I  give  the 
signal — then  down  she  goes,  and  let  them  have 
it  full  blast  before  they  're  fairly  awake." 

He  hurried  over  to  North  College  with  the 
same  order. 

In  a  few  moments  all  was  ready ;  each  was  in 
his  place.  The  suppressed  excitement  in  the 
little  groups  could  hardly  be  restrained. 

''We'll  fix 'em!" 


THE  FRESHMAN  DELUGE  8 1 

"  S-s-s-h-h  !  Not  so  loud,"  and  Foster  laid 
a  cautioning  hand  on  Luce's  shoulder. 

The  signal  was  given. 

Crash !  went  the  doors.  In  rushed  the 
Sophomores,  each  with  a  pail  poised  aloft  in 
his  hands. 

"  Aim  for  their  heads  !  "  was  the  order. 

Not  a  Freshman  moved. 

"  Quick  !  "  cried  the  leader. 

One,  two,  three,  four,  five  pails,  full  to  the 
brim,  were  dashed  in  rapid  succession  upon  the 
sleeping  occupants — not  a  Freshman  escaped. 

Smothered  gasps  only,  were  heard  from  some  ; 
others  broke  out  with — well,  not  what  was 
learned  in  the  days  of  *'  Mother  Goose,"  or  from 
the  family  catechism. 

Without  a  word  the  midnight  guests  passed 
noiselessly  into  the  halls.  Not  a  Freshman  ap- 
peared, for  fear  by  so  doing  of  meeting  a  still 
more  startling  surprise. 

"  There 's  moisture  in  the  college,  boys," 
hummed  the  Sophomores,  as  they  quietly  re- 
turned to  their  rooms,  and  the  moon  smiled 
approval  behind  a  cloud. 

The    Kennebec    gurgled    gleefully    over   the 
falls,  and  never  missed   the  water  that  the  next 
7 


82  COLBY  STORIES 

day's  sun  absorbed  from  the  bedding  that  hung 
so  conspicuously  from  many  a  Freshman's  win- 
dow, 

"Dey  all  look  limp's  de  bed-clo's,"  chuckled 
Sam,  mischievously,  the  next  morning  at  the 
chapel  entrance,  as  the  Freshmen  went  mince- 
ingly  in  to  prayers.  ''What'd  de  ol'  jan'tor 
tell  yo'!" 


''ABE''    OF  SEVENTY-BLANK 

"Abe"  had  arrived  on  the  afternoon  express 
to  attend  commencement  exercises,  and  on  the 
following  day  to  be  present  at  his  class  reunion. 
He  had  wandered  up  about  the  college  at  eve- 
ning time,  finally  into  old  South  to  hunt  up  the 
room  in  which  he  and  '*  Bottle  "  had  spent  four 
happy  years,  in  the  days  gone  by ;  and  having 
found  the  door  with  the  split  panel  (no  matter 
how  it  happened  to  get  split),  behind  which 
many  a  "  happy  old  time  "  as  "  Abe  "  branded 
them,  had  taken  place,  he  rapped  and  was  ad- 
mitted. Within  he  found  a  crowd  of  some 
eight  men,  indulging  in  a  little  game  of  whist; 
a  few  bottles  (contents,  rare!),  but  empty,  as 
"  Abe "  soon  discovered,  rolled  around  on  the 
floor,  the  room  full  of  smoke  of  the  eight  black 
pipes — looking,  as  "Abe"  vowed,  "pretty 
much  like  them  days  of  seventy-blank." 

The  boys  tossed  aside  the  cards  as  the 
stranger  entered  ;   one  proffered  a  chair,  another 


84  COLBY  STORIES 

a  cigar — both  of  which  were  thankfully  accepted 
— then  all  fell  to  firing  questions  at  the  old  grad. 

"Call  me  'Abe,'  boys;  that  sounds  more 
like  the  old  days." 

"Well,  'Abe'  it  is,  then,"  said  Hawthorne, 
picking  up  a  guitar.  "I  've  heard  my  father  tell 
of  those  old  days  and  sing  their  praises,  too. 
He  never  encouraged  me  to  get  into  soyne  of  the 
ways  you  fellows  trod.  He  must  have  entered 
along  about  the  time  you  got  your  sheep-skin. 
I  wish,  often-times,  the  old  days  were  here 
again  !  " 

Swift  reached  over  and  took  the  guitar  from 
Hawthorne's  lap.  Striking  a  chord  or  tw^o  he 
sang  sweet  and  low : 

"  Once  in  the  dear,  dead  days  beyond  recall, 
When  on  the  world  the  mists  began  to  fall." 

"Abe"  got  up,  went  over  to  a  black  case 
leaning  against  the  desk,  unstrapped  it  and 
revealed  a  brand  new  violin  that  Perkins  of 
eighty-blank  had  recently  purchased.  He 
drew  the  bow  softly  across  the  strings  a  few 
times,  tightened  one  key,  loosened  another — 
the  boys  looking  on  the  wdiile — then  carelessly 
swung  off  into  a  beautiful  anthem  he  had  picked 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  85 

Up  while  in  college.  The  boys  listened  breath- 
lessly till  he  had  finished.  There  was  some- 
thing about  "Abe's"  playing,  so  careless,  yet 
so  clear,  sweet,  that  the  anthem  was  only  an 
appetizer. 

**  Oh  !  go  on,  boys,"  cried  **  Abe"  desperate- 
ly, "that's  all  guff;  why,  you  can  all  beat  me, 
hands  down.  Put  the  thing  up,  I  say;  I  could 
play  once,  but  it's  no  use  now.  In  all  my  col- 
lege course  I  could  n't  draw  an  X  to  save  my 
life,  but  when  it  came  to  violin-playing  and  tell- 
ing stories  there  were  mighty  few  of  them  to 
hold  a  candle-stick  to  me." 

*'  Well,  then,"  said  Aldrich,  stretching  out 
his  long  body  on  the  couch,  "  if  we  can't  have 
the  fiddler  we  must  have  the  fiddler's  song," — 
a  quotation  of  his  own.  Aldrich  was  original, 
— it  stopped  there. 

"  That's  right,  give  us  the  stories."     Chorus. 

"  Abe "  slid  down  into  his  chair  till  his 
elbows  rested  on  its  arms,  crossed  his  legs  mid- 
way of  the  floor,  puffed  a  few  times  at  his  cigar, 
then  began. 

"  Of  course  you  fellows  have  heard  of  stiff 
old  Prexy  Champlin.  Well,  the  best  story 
the  boys  told  on  him,  which   they  did  pretty 


86  COLBY  STORIES 

often,  was  the  one  at  the  time  he  unbended 
his  straight  old  back,  and  deigned  to  speak 
to  his  nearest  neighbor.  It  was  just  after  a 
heavy  rain,  the  Hghtning  and  wind  having 
played  havoc  with  the  whole  neighborhood, 
when  the  doctor  as  he  saw  it  clear  up,  came  out 
of  his  house  and  started  for  the  college.  An 
aged  farmer,  who  lived  next  door  to  the  punc- 
tilious president,  stood  leaning  against  his  front 
fence,  calmly  smoking  his  black  T.  D.,  and  the 
while  feeding  his  cow  by  the  roadside.  To 
the  old  farmer  the  doctor  thus  addressed  him- 
self: 

•'  *  Fellow  neighbor,'  he  began,  in  a  basso 
voice,  dignified  air,  *  this  has  been  a  tempes- 
tuous downpour  and  an  extremely  annoying  and 
terrifying  onset  in  the  ethereal  sky  above  us.' 

"■  Neighbor  Hitch  took  out  his  black  T.  D., 
spilt  the  ashes  on  the  rail  fence,  looked  quizzi- 
cally up  at  the  doctor,  then  at  the  heavens,  and 
finally   said, — *  Wa-al,   ye-es,  neighbor, — ye-es, 

you  're  right;   this  ere  has  been  a  d heavy 

rain.'" 

Scott  laughed  and  counted  "  One."  York 
drew  his  fingertips  unconsciously  across  the 
strings  of  his  mandolin,  and  sank  into  a  chair — 


-a 
a. 
E 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  87 

laughing.  Scott  could  laugh  and  appreciate  a 
joke,  though  he  was  a  crammer. 

"  Never  shall  forget  the  one  we  told  on 
Dodge,"  continued  "Abe."  "Dodge  was  a 
hunchback  and  the  most  laughable  fellow  that 
breathed.  One  day  in  rhetoric  Prof.  Johnnie 
held  forth  on  the  subject  of  choosing  words  to 
fit  the  thought.  '  Why,'  he  expounded,  *  a  man 
should  grovel  on  the  floor  till  he  can  find  the 
word  he  wants,  rather  than  use  a  wrong  one.' 
A  few  minutes  later  he  called  on  Dodge  to 
recite  on  *  Laws  of  Division.'  Dodge  punched 
me  when  he  got  up,  and  I  knew  the  devil  was 
afoul  of  him.     He  began  in  a  piping  voice : 

"  *  Seek  to  find  the  distinctions  wholly  in  the 
nature  of  the  idea,  and  beware  of  fanciful  analo- 
gies or  arbitrary — '  He  stopped  sudden ;  an- 
other fierce  kick  on  my  shins.  '  Arbitrary — , 
arbitrary — '  he  repeated  thoughtfully.  He 
shifted  his  weight  to  the  right  foot,  and  again  I 
got  a  kick  from  his  left.  What  in  blazes  he 
was  up  to  was  beyond  me,  so  I  gave  him  more 
room  and  sat  as  glum  as  you  please.  But  you 
may  judge  of  my  surprise  when  presently  that 
hunchback  Dodge  gave  me  a  parting  salute, 
broad-jumped  the  seat  directly  in  front  of  us, 


88  COLBY  STORIES 

landed  lightly  on  his  hump,  before  the  desk  of 
the  terrified  Prof.,  and  then  ! — Why,  boys,  talk 
about  circus  tumbling  !  Those  fellows  were  n't 
in  it  a  minute  with  Dodge.  Fact  was,  you 
couldn't  see  him.  'T  was  first  hump,  then 
shoes,  then  head.  Well,  he  kept  that  sort  of 
thing  up  for  full  three  minutes  till  everybody 
thought  him  crazy  mad,  when  the  wise  and 
now  cool-headed  Johnnie  remarked  :  '  Keep  on 
groveling,  Mr.  Dodge,  you  '11  get  it  yet!' 

"  Dodge  rolled  back  on  his  hump,  leaped  to 
his  seat  as  lightly  as  a  cat,  and  then  as  cool  and 
^collected  as  a  pitcher  in  the  ninth  inning  of  a 
tie  game  he  resumed  his  former  position  and 
continued,  * — arbitrary  preconceptions  of  sym- 
metry of  the  subject,'  and  sat  down. 

''  Ha  !  Ha  !  Ha  !  Well,  do  you  know,  boys, 
that  old  hard-shelled,  sober-faced  Baptist  Prof, 
could  n't  hold  in  to  save  his  life,  and  he  laughed 
and  laughed  and  laughed,  and  finally  he  saw  it 
was  no  use  and  blurted  out  'Excused.'  Dodge 
was  a  corker,  no  mistake." 

'•  Fat"  Lewis  pushed  open  the  door. 

*' '  Fat '  Lewis,"  said  Aldrich,  "  this  is  just 
*  Abe  '  of  the  seventies." 

''  Fat,"  said  '*  Abe,"  rising  and  laughing. 


"ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  89 

"Just  Abe,"  replied  ''Fat,"  clasping  hands. 

*•  You  want  to  take  the  quotient  after  divid- 
ing by  two  of  these  yarns  of  the  men  of  the 
seventies,"  said  Lewis. 

"And  never  append  'Just'  before  their 
names,"  added  the  old  grad. 

"  Sit  down,  Lewis,"  said  Alden,  "  '  Abe  '  is 
having  his  inning  now.  You  had  yours  last 
fall,  you  know." 

Alden  referred  to  the  grandstand-play  "  Fat" 
made  in  the  Colby-Bowdoin  game. 

"  Great  play,  that,"  came  from  Aldrich. 

'*  Yankety,  yank,  why  !     What's  the  score? 
Bowdoin's  down,  sir — oh,  my  !     Six  to  four! 
0-O-O-H  !     MY  !     Who  did  that? 
{All)    WH-Y-Y  'FAT!'     DID    THAT!!-" 

"  Shut  up,"  said  "  Fat,"  when  Aldrich  finish- 
ed the  cry.     "  Let  by-gones  be  by-gones." 

"  'Nuff  said,"  and  Aldrich  dodged  a  book. 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  "Abe"  again. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  about  '  French  Leave?'  " 
he  began.  "No?  Well  it  was  a  good  joke, 
well  executed.  It  happened  in  the  summer 
along  about  '7-.  It  was  spoken  of  as  the  mys- 
terious disappearance  of  Le  Cid — not  the  Cam- 


pO  COLBY  STORIES 

peador  in  his  proper  person,  but  Corneille's 
play  celebrating  his  adventures. 

'*  One  of  the  classes  was  reading  Le  Cid  that 
term.  It  so  fell  out  upon  a  day  that  the  imp 
of  mischief  inspired  two  of  his  votaries  with  the 
notion  that  it  would  be  a  capital  joke  to  steal 
the  books  and  so  get  a  '  cut.'  Steal  is  not  the 
word.  A  fico  for  the  phrase !  Convey  the 
wise  call  it,  quoth  ancient  Pistol.  They  meant 
temporarily  to  abstract  the  books  for  the  gen- 
eral good.  'T  was  kept  pretty  close  home,  you 
may  know.  The  plot  was  so  well  laid  and  ex- 
ecuted that  by  the  next  recitation  every  book 
had  vanished,  nobody  knew  where.  Well,  the 
bell  rang,  the  class  filed  into  recitation,  minus 
books,  minus  lessons. 

'''What  does  this  mean?'  demanded  the 
good  old  Prof,  sternly.  He  had  heard  three 
straight  flunks. 

"  '  No  book  !  '  '  Book  gone  ! '  '  Lost  my 
book!'  'Book  stolen!'  came  a  chorus  of 
answers.  Some  the  old  Prof,  did  n't  hear,  such 
as  '  Book  swiped  !'  'Flew  the  coop!'  'Up  the 
stump!'  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

"  When  the  state  of  the  case  became  fully 
known  Prof.  Blank  was  highly  indignant.     '  It 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  9 1 

is  an  outrage !  '  he  cried  *  a  mean,  low,  witless, 
and  criminal  performance.  It  is  an  offence 
against  not  only  the  college,  but  the  state.  If 
these  perpetrators  are  discovered,  they  should 
not  be  allowed  to  remain  in  college  over  night. 
It  is  larceny,  gentlemen,  larceny,  and  those  who 
have  lost  their  books  have  ground  to  institute  a 
criminal  prosecution,  and  I  advise  you  to  go 
ahead.' 

"  The  guilty  two  looked  perfect  innocence. 
They  appeared  deeply  interested  in  all  that  the 
Prof,  said,  and  now  and  again  nodded  heads  in 
approval.  '  Prof,  is  right,  just  right,'  said  the 
kidnappers  of  the  Cid  as  soon  as  the  class  was 
dismissed. 

The  two  circulated  about,  discussing  the  mat- 
ter, expressing  a  proper  sense  of  its  enormity, 
and  advising  that  a  proper  investigation  be 
made.  The  class  agreed,  crammers  leading, 
and  the  remarkable  thing  about  the  procedure 
was  that  the  very  two  who  abstracted  the  books 
were  made  a  committee  of  two  to  wait  upon  the 
Prof,  and  ask  him  to  lay  the  matter  before  the 
faculty.  With  grave  mien  the  committee  attend- 
ed to  its  duty.  They  represented  that  the  class 
was   of   one   mind,    namely :    that    the  outrage 


92  COLBY  STORIES 

should  be  investigated  and  the  culprits  detected 
and  punished  without  fear  or  favor.  They  said 
in  a  solemn  voice,  '  Can't  the  matter  be  brought 
before  the  faculty,  sir?' 

•**  Gentlemen,'  replied  the  dignitary  taking 
off  one  pair  of  nose  glasses,  and  scratching  his 
head  slowly,  'What's  the  clue?  It  will  be  of 
little  use  to  bring  the  matter  before  us  unless 
there  is  some  clue.  Think  of  a  clue,  gentle- 
men, think  of  a  clue.' 

"'Clue  and  be  hanged!'  said  the  first  kid- 
napper softly  to  the  second.  '  The  faculty  be 
hanged  !  '  whispered  second  to  first. 

"  The  committee  reported  to  the  class,  and 
the  matter  was  dropped.  Two  days  later  Sam 
opened  the  Chapel  door.  'Fo'  de  Lawd 
Massy !  '  he  exclaimed,  '  dat  am  de  case  eb'ry- 
time ;  de  los'  am  always  hid  in  de  open.' 
Well,  sir,  nobody  outside  of  those  two  know 
to-day  who  the  kidnappers  were." 

"How's  that?"  asked  Aldrich,  looking 
sharply  with  half  closed  eyes  at  "  Abe." 
"  That's  a  fact,  sir,  sure's  you're  born,"  added 
the  old  grad.  convincingly. 

"  Well,  then,"  queried  Swift,  "  how  in  Jehos- 
haphat  did  you  happen  to  know  so  much  about 
it,  unless " 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  93 

"Say,"  said  "Abe"  slowly,  "that  cigar  I 
just  finished  was  a  corker." 

The  boys  all  laughed  when  they  saw  how 
badly  poor  "Abe"  had  slumped. 

"  I  got  what  you  could  call  actually  mad  just 
once  while  I  was  in  college,"  continued  "  Abe," 
lighting  a  second  cigar  that  Al  gave  him. 

"  How's  that?  "  asked  Bobs  waking  up  from 
a  long  snooze.  "  Those  stories  you  are  telling 
are  peaches.  Ought  to  be  chronicled,  sure 
thing !  Wish  they  were  in  a  book,"  and 
Bobs  dropped  off  to  sleep  again. 

"  It  must  have  been  in  the  spring  of  '7-  that 
the  great  Sophomore  cremation  of  mathematics 
took  place.  Doubtless  burnt  offerings  of  calcu- 
lus, analytical  geometry  and  all  that  tribe  had 
been  made  before,  and  have  since  been  offered 
up,  but  in  the  decade  of  the  seventies,  at  least, 
no  affair  of  the  kind  approached  in  celebrity 
the  one  of  which  I  am  speaking.  It  is  amusing, 
boys,  to  look  back  upon,  but  at  the  time  it  was 
taken  pretty  seriously  by  those  most  concerned. 

"  After  the  mathematical  studies  had  been 
finished  some  suggested  that  it  would  be  the 
most  proper  thing  in  the  world  to  take  the 
books  and   burn    them  ceremoniously.     I  was 


94  COLBY  STORIES 

mightily  in  favor  of  it — I  got  cut  out  first  term 
of  Fresh,  year.  Interest  lagged  at  first  until  it 
came  out  that  the  men  of  first-year  were  plan- 
ning something  of  the  sort  on  their  own  hook. 
Then  interest  took  a  brace,  fellows  woke  up, 
things  became  lively.  The  wind  had  just  got 
to  be  taken  out  of  their  sails.  Committees  were 
formed  and  arrangements  were  made  in  hot 
haste.  Two  men  worked  a  good  part  of  the 
next  Sunday  in  a  Fairfield  job  printing  office, 
supervising  the  getting  out  of  posters  and  pro- 
grams. I  've  one  of  those  programs  now.  It 
is  not  a  masterpiece  of  the  art  preservative,  but 
it  set  forth  the  case  with  a  sufficient  elaboration 
of  ghastliness.  The  pages  were  deeply  bor- 
dered with  black,  and  ornamented  with  coffin 
hds.  In  more  or  less  correct  Latin  the  docu- 
ment announced  something  as  follows : 

"'CONCREMATIS. 


U     ( 


Classis.  VI  Calendas  Maias.' 


*'  And    as  a    sort    of    explanation,    or    justi- 
fication,    this     solemn     statement     appeared : 
Magnus  liber,  magnum  malum.     The  ■pomj>a 
funehris  consisted  of  dux^  sacerdos,  taedarum 
geruli  lecticarii,  more   lecticarii   and   taeda- 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  95 

rum  geridi^  qui  -princeps  funis  exsequitur 
and  quifunus  exsequitur,  ending  up  with  the 
vulgus.  For  the  information  of  the  latter  the 
particulars  as  to  the  time  and  route  of  the  pro- 
cession were  given  in  English.  The  various 
odes  written  to  be  sung  on  the  occasion,  to 
such  airs  as  *  Auld  Lang  Syne,'  'Shall  We 
Gather  at  the  River,'  and  'Annie  Lisle,'  were 
given,  and  after  'Consolation  to  mourning 
friends  by  the  Priest,'  this  maddening  quotation 
appeared : 

"  '  The  differential  of  any  power  of  a  function 
is  equal  to  the  exponent  multiplied  by  the  func- 
tion raised  to  a  power  less  one,  multiplied  by 
the  differential  of  the  function.' 

"  Monday  morning  discovered  the  posters 
nailed  to  trees,  posts,  and  bill-boards  every- 
where. They  caused  a  great  sensation,  espe- 
cially among  the  men  of  first-year,  whose  fun 
was  up.  The  Sophs  could  n't  help  that.  They 
were  mighty  sorry  to  have  interfered,  and  had 
they  known — but  anyhow  they  would  offer 
commiseration  and — grin  up  their  sleeves. 

"  Meanwhile  preparations  went  on  apace. 
Appropriate  costumes  were  designed,  the  local 
brass  band  hired,  and  a  member  of  the  class, 


g6  COLBY  STORIES 

the  son  of  a  professor  and  since  a  missionary 
on  the  other  side  of  the  world,  being  handy 
with  carpenter's  tools,  was  commissioned  to 
make  the  coffin  and  bier. 

"  On  the  afternoon  of  the  great  day  a  funeral 
pile  was  built  on  the  upper  part  of  the  campus, 
where  now  is  the  athletic  field.  It  was  then  a 
cow  pasture.  Driftwood  from  the  river,  fence 
rails,  boxes,  and  what-not  furnished  the  mate- 
rial, and  altogether  it  took  over  a  cord  of  wood; 
We  felt  pretty  sure  first-year  men  would 
attempt  revenge.  They  had  shown  their  teeth 
several  times  that  day,  so  a  guard  of  upper- 
classmen  was  enlisted  to  keep  watch  while  the 
procession  was  down  town. 

''  Well,  it  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  eve- 
ning when  the  parade  was  formed  without  mis- 
hap, and  moved  through  the  main  streets  ac- 
cording to  program.  That  was  a  memor- 
able night  for  staid  and  quiet  Waterville. 
*  Big '  Allen  carried  a  baton  and  led  off,  the 
band  came  next,  then  the  black  bier  of  books 
and  the  class,  two  abreast,  with  torches  and 
standards  of  appropriate  lettering,  followed.  To 
the  music  of  dirges  the  leciicarti,  geruli,  and 
others  stepped  solemnly  elate  and  congratulated 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  97 

themselves  on  the  booming  success  of  their 
show.  The  thing  was  going  on  as  merrily  as 
anything  so  mournful  could  be  expected  to  go. 

"  We  turned  up  College  Avenue  on  the  return 
march.  The  first  thing  we  saw  was  a  mighty 
sheet  of  flame  rise  into  the  heavens.  A  dread- 
ful thought  gripped  our  hearts.  The  rumor 
ran  along  the  line  that  the  smart  Freshies  had 
stolen  a  march  and  fired  our  pile  prematurely. 

"  At  the  campus  our  crowd  was  met  by 
those  babies  of  first-year  and  their  allies 
armed  with  fish-horns.  Then  a  bray  of  horns 
and  shrieks  like  the  wicked  Saracens  of  old 
ensued.  The  racket,  kept  up  during  the  re- 
mainder of  the  exercises,  was  so  terrific  that 
the  band  was  completely  drowned  and  panto- 
mime had  to  take  the  place  of  speech. 

*'  It  appeared  that  while  the  procession  was 
marching,  the  guards  either  proved  faithless  to 
their  trust  or  were  lured  away.  When  the 
remains  of  the  burning  pile  were  reached,  the 
coffin  containing  the  corpses  of  the  condemned 
books  was  flung  upon  the  embers,  and  with 
the  help  of  Sam's  kerosene  can  was  consumed. 

"I  tell  you,  boys,  we  fellows  were  hot. 
Triumph  had  been  turned  into  defeat,  and  the 
8 


98  COLBY  STORIES 

revenge  of  the  enemy  was  complete.  By- 
standers did  not  perhaps  perceive  any  differ- 
ence, but  the  fact  was  that  the  untoward  event 
threw  the  remaining  exercises  into  confusion 
and  cut  them  short — too  short.  Cast  down  in 
spirit  though  outwardly  calm  we  mourners 
withdrew  from  the  scene,  pursued  by  the  mad- 
dening bray  of  horns,  and  assembled  in  one  of 
the  rooms  to  relieve  our  feelings  and  discuss 
ways  and  means. 

''  We  packed  in  thirty  strong,  and  the 
schemes  of  retaliation  rolled  out  sixty  per  min- 
ute. I  proposed  tying  the  whole  blank  crowd 
together  and  dragging  them  over  the  city.  All 
agreed.  Then  some  one  sang  out,  '  Tar  and 
feather  them  ;'  all  agreed.  '  Stack  their  rooms,' 
yelled  a  third  ;  '  that's  the  checker.'  Again  all 
agreed. 

"■  Gilbert  said  things  about  seventy-blank 
men  that  would  n't  look  well  in  print;  Pierson 
swore  he  would  have  revenge  if  he  got  fired  for 
it ;  *  Short '  Parker  jumped  upon  a  table,  knocked 
over  the  ink-bottle,  crushed  the  pen  to  smither- 
eens and  said  he  did  n't  think  but  a  blank  little 
of  such  a  blank  class  to  do  such  a  blankety- 
blank-blank,  open-doored,  measly  trick  as  they 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  99 

had,  and  to  have  a  gibbet's  rope  around  their 
necTcs  was  none  too  good  for  them.  '  I  do  n't 
give  a  rip  for  the  faculty ;  I'm  in  favor  of  hang- 
ing a  millstone  about  their  necks  and  throwing 
them  into  the  Kennebec — the  whole  blank  posse 
of  them,'  he  declared,  '  and  the  sooner  they're 
in,  the  better  for  humanity — and  the  worse  for 
the  water.'  I  opened  the  door  and  stalked  out. 
I  was  just  about  as  mad  as  a  mad  man  can  be. 
I  believed  then  and  there  that  I  could  wallop 
about  any  man  that  lived.  I  went  down  the 
stairs  and  out  upon  the  campus  where  there 
was  a  knot  of  first-year  men,  and  posting  myself 
in  an  elevated  place  expressed  my  opinion  of 
them  in  mighty  plain  terms  and  challenged  the 
whole  class  to  single  combat. 

"The  challenge  wasn't  accepted.  But  we 
put  them  up,  one  and  all,  and  I  never  enjoyed 
spanking  any  more  than  I  did  that  night. 
Those  days,  I  hear,  are  not  yet  over, — well, 
don't  go  back  on  the  old  days  entirely.  Peo- 
ple tell  you  hazing  is  out  of  style,  borders  on 
the  'barbaric*,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  Well, 
believe  it  if  you  choose.  I  tell  you  what,  I  'm 
no  exponent  of  the  old  style  hazing,  but  I  can 
count   you   twenty-five    boys  whom   a   pail   of 


lOO  COLBY  STORIES 

water  and  a  spanking  helped  to  make  men. 
What  are  you  to  do  when  a  man  comes  to  col- 
lege, swells  around,  bosses  Sam,  and  owns  the 
earth  generally?  Just  get  a  big  pail  of  water, 
perch  in  the  fourth  story  of  old  South  and 
when  the  white  shirt,  stand  up  collar,  goggles 
and  cane  come  swinging  around  the  corner,  let 
go  !  If  that  does  n't  settle  matters,  call  on  him 
the  next  night  just  before  he  goes  calling,  and 
during  the  course  of  your  conversation  tell  him' 
what  may  be  rightfully  expected  of  all  first- 
year  men ;  then  to  clinch  matters  ask  him  to 
sing  'Rally  'Round  the  Flag,'  to  sit  on  the 
wash  bowl  and  '  row  across  the  briny  deep,' 
— and  I  '11  guarantee  all  this  '  to  cure  or  kill' 
nine  cases  out  of  ten, — yes,  and  best  of  all,  the 
fellows  will  thank  you  for  it  years  afterward. 
No,  boys,  do  n't  go  back  on  the  old  days  entirely 
— the  happiest  days  of  my  whole  life.  You  men 
who  are  going  out  will  say  the  same  thirty 
years  hence, — ponder  upon  all  the  happenings 
inside  the  old  Bricks,  recall  the  boys, — God 
bless  them  ! — long  to  live  the  old  days  all  over 
again." 

The  old  grad.    ceased   talking,   and   a    long 
silence  which  no  one  in  the  room  seemed  dis- 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  lOl 

posed  to  break  followed.  Bobs  snored  loudly, 
rolled  over,  and  woke  up.  Poor  Bobs !  All 
tired  out  from  last  evening's  Senior  Hop.  He 
sat  upright,  rubbed  his  eyes,  yawned,  looked 
sheepishly  into  one  countenance,  then  another, 
and  finally  asked,  ''What  time  are  you,  Al?  " 

Aldrich  looked  at  his  watch :  "  Well,  Bobs, 
it 's  going  on  for  eleven-thirty." 

"  Good  night,  *  Abe,'  "  said  Bobs,  fumbling 
for  the  door-knob,  "■  good  night,  boys." 

"  Good  night,  old  man,"  came  the  chorus." 

"  Abe  "  smiled  a  little  at  the  sound  of  his 
old  college  name. 

Bobs  led  the  procession  that  finally  emptied 
the  room,  excepting  Aldrich  and  "Abe," — 
Alden,  Hawthorne,  Swift,  Scott,  York,  following 
him. 

"  Do  n't  hurry,"  said  Aldrich,  as  '•  Abe  " 
rose  to  go,  "  this  is  early,  yet.  Here  for  com- 
mencement? " 

"  Yes,  and  class  reunion.  I  shall  meet  your 
father  here  tomorrow."  ''Abe  "  laughed  lightly. 

"  You  know  my  father,  then  ?  " 

"Fairly  well,  fairly  well,"  answered  "Abe," 
with  a  chuckle,  "  we  bunked  in  this  same  room 
for  four  years,  my  boy." 


I02  COLBY  STORIES 

'*  You — why,  you  bunked  with  my  father ! 
Mistake,  you  've  made  a  mistake,  sir.  My 
name  is  Aldrich  ;  my  father's  name  is  Llewellyn 
H.  Aldrich.  His  room-mate  was  Judge  Her- 
bert Alexander  of  the  supreme  court  of — " 

''Quite  right,  young  man,  quite  right;  that 
individual  is  before  you.  My  card.  Your 
father  was  a  loyal  Xi  Delta  Psi  man  like  myself. 
Did  n't  I  see  one  of  our  pins  on  your  waist- 
coat? "  Judge  Alexander  stretched  forth  his  two. 
hands  and  gave  Aldrich  the  grip.  Poor  Al  was 
more  amazed  than  Bobs  was  a  few  minutes 
before. 

'*  Why — this  cant  be  the  man  my  father 
expects  to  meet  tomorrow  !  Judge  Alexander 
— supreme  court — tall,  spare — '  Abe  Lincoln  ' 
they  called  him, — '  Abe  ' — Xi  Delta  Psi  man — 
great  violinist  in  college — By  George !  But 
this  evening — why,  we  had  n't  any  idea  't  was 
you — and  the  fellows — thunder  and  lightning  ! 
Here,  Scott,  Alden — come  up, — bring  the 
rest,  fellows  !" 

Scott  appeared  in  the  doorway,  minus  shirt, 
minus  stockings,  clinging  to  his  breeches  ;  Alden 
peered  into  the  room  and  yelled,  ''  Now,  what 
the  devil  is  up?"     And  then  others  came,  clad 


''ABE''   OF  SEVENTY-BLANK  IO3 

much  after  the  style  of  Scott — if  not  one  bet- 
ter. 

"  Boys,"  said  Al,  excitedly,  *'  I  want  you  to 
meet  my  father's  closest  friend,  not  '  Abe,'  but, 
as  we  have  heard  him  spoken  of,  Brother  Judge 
Herbert  Alexander  of ." 

After  the  fellows  had  gone  again,  the  judge 
having  expressed  the  desire  to  bunk  with  Al 
that  night,  '*  anywhere  if  only  within  these 
walls,"  the  young  and  old  of  Xi  Delta  Psi 
bunked  together.  When  the  morning  had 
come,  and  the  judge  had  arisen,  donned  his 
tall  silk  hat,  black  suit,  then  Al  felt  sorry  for 
the  indifference  of  the  boys  the  evening  before 
towards  this  distinguished  western  jurist. 

"Judge,  you  must  pardon  us  for  last  night. 
We  had  no  idea  that  it  was  you,  and — " 

''  Now,  young  man,"  answered  Judge  Alex- 
ander, good  naturedly,'  **  no  more  of  these 
wretched  excuses.  The  evidence  is  all  against 
you.  I  wanted  you  to  receive  me  in  the  old 
ways;  I  was  careful  not  to  tell  my  name,  you 
know.  It  did  me  more  good  to  be  welcomed 
as  I  was,  to  be  called  'Abe,'  to  hear  that  *  Bobs  ' 
of  yours — and  many  's  the  time  I  've  been  as 
sleepy    as    he — tell   me    he   wished   my   stories 


I04  COLBY  STORIES 

were  in  a  book — in  short,  to  live  those  grand 
old  days  over  again, — than  be  on  a  $50,000 
case  and  win  it.  I  tell  you  what,  young  man, 
the  happiest  moments  of  a  man's  life  are  when 
he  lives  and  acts  as  God  made  him  to  live  and 
act — naturally.  College  life  makes  a  man  nat- 
ural ;  that  is  why  a  college  man  is  so  happy ; 
that  is  why  I  long  for  those  days  of  seventy- 
blank,  and  that  is  why  I  enjoyed  last  night  bet- 
ter than  any  night  I  have  lived  for  thirty  years. 
Be  a  gentleman,  but  be  natural !  " 

And  the  judge,  on  his  way  to  the  Frat  house 
for  a  breakfast  with  Al,  tried  to  breathe  again 
the  fragrance  of  the  sweet  lilies  in  the  great 
meadow,  of  the  blossoms  of  early  spring,  he 
had  breathed  long  ago  in  seventy-blank. 


A    CURE   FOR   NERVOUSNESS 

It  was  the  night  of  the  Freshman  reading. 
The  church  was  packed  with  the  beauty  and 
chivalry  of  Waterville's  upper  eight  thousand, 
ostensibly,  of  course,  to  hear  the  Freshmen 
read,  but  really  in  the  ardent  hope  of  seeing  a 
fight  between  the  Sophomores  and  Freshmen, 
or  at  least  some  disturbance  of  the  exercises. 

When  something  does  happen  that  wasn't 
provided  for  on  the  program  these  good  towns- 
folk are  loud-spoken  in  saying  that  the  thing 
was  scandalous  and  in  hoping  that  the  presi- 
dent and  faculty  will  punish  the  offenders ;  but 
in  their  heart  of  hearts  they  would  n't  have 
missed  it  for  anything,  and  go  to  the  reading 
the  next  year  hoping  to  see  something  like  it 
again. 

This  year  the  friction  between  the  two  lower 
classes  had  been  decidedly  warm,  and  rumors 
were  flying  in  flocks  concerning  the  deep 
machinations  of  the  Sophomores   in   regard  to 


Io6  COLBY  STORIES 

this  critical  evening.  It  is  true  that  the  presi- 
dent had  warned  the  Sophomores  that  no  dis- 
turbances should  be  brought  into  the  church, 
but  warnings  are  often  forgotten,  and  many  a 
Freshman  felt  a  vague  apprehension  of  being, 
at  any  moment,  blown  through  the  roof  from  a 
mine  in  the  cellar.  All  over  the  house  fluttered 
copies  of  the  War  Cry — for  those  were  the 
days  when  the  discovery  had  not  been  made 
that  this  publication  was  not  necessary  to  the 
honor  of  a  Sophomore  class — and  the  poor  vic- 
tims ground  their  teeth  as  they  read  their 
**  roasts  "  and  vowed  a  bitter  vengeance  the  fol- 
lowing year.  The  audience  fidgeted  in  their 
seats,  the  Freshmen  ushers  strode  through  the 
aisles  trying  not  to  appear  conscious  and  green 
at  the  business,  and  the  speakers  themselves 
sat  in  their  pews  nervously  whispering  and 
laughing  in  the  poor  attempt  to  seem  confident 
and  at  ease.  It  was  for  all  an  atmosphere  of 
nervous  expectation. 

One  of  the  speakers,  Richard  Curtis,  could 
not  have  appeared  more  doleful  if  he  were  soon 
to  be  burned  at  the  stake.  He  had  gone  into 
the  trial  readings  from  a  sense  of  duty  to  his 
family  and  his  fraternity,  had  done  his  best,  and 


A    CURE   FOR  NERVOUSNESS  107 

to  his  great  surprise  was  appointed.  His  ap- 
pointment was  a  surprise  to  a  great  many  others 
also  because  one  who  was  reckoned  a  sure  man 
for  a  place  was  not  appointed  at  all.  This  was 
Harris,  a  youth  of  speech-making  ambitions, — 
one  of  those  men  who  take  up  all  the  time  in 
class-meetings, — and  it  is  not  surprising  that  he 
felt  his  disappointment  keenly.  The  unfortu- 
nate part  of  the  affair  was  that  he  did  not  know 
enough  at  least  to  keep  his  mouth  shut,  but 
went  about  confiding  his  sorrows  everywhere 
and  hinting  darkly  at  favoritism  in  the  judging 
committee  as  the  reason  for  Curtis's  appoint- 
ment. This  spirit  deepened  into  a  settled 
grudge  against  Curtis  himself,  shown  forth  by 
many  ill-natured  remarks  and  mean  insinuations. 
Some  of  this  was  reflected  in  the  War  Cry,  for 
its  editor  belonged  to  the  same  fraternity  as 
Harris,  and  as  a  Freshman  feels  sorely  the 
slings  and  arrows  of  an  outrageous  War  Cry, 
the  abuse  that  Curtis  found  shoveled  upon  him 
heaped  high  his  load  of  care  till  he  felt  he  could 
never  raise  his  head  again,  and  gave  him  that 
look  of  misery  already  hinted  at. 

In  the  first  place,  he  had  spoken   in  public 
but  once  before — when  he  graduated  from  the 


I08  COLBY  STORIES 

Academy,  and  on  that  dreadful  night  he  had 
felt  the  exquisite  torture  of  forgetting  in  the 
middle  of  his  essay  and  of  having  to  stand  a 
full  minute  and  a  half  in  awful  silence.  With 
this  cheering  experience,  Curtis  felt  positive 
that  he  should  n't  remember  a  word  when  he 
reached  the  platform — and  his  spirits  sank  to 
the  lowest  circles  of  the  Inferno  at  the  very 
thought.  In  short,  the  boy  was  at  the  fog  end 
of  weeks  of  wrong  and  was  in  no  state  of  mind 
for  a  prize  exhibition. 

His  chum  and  room-mate,  Bennett,  who  sat 
next  to  him,  was  an  oldtimer  on  the  platform. 
He  had  taken  part  in  Academy  debates,  won 
prizes  in  speaking  contests,  and  was  generally 
admitted  to  be  probable  winner  of  the  first  prize 
in  this  evening's  exhibition.  He  had  labored 
faithfully  with  his  friend,  coaching  and  encour- 
aging him  as  best  he  could,  but  now  the  only 
response  to  an  encouraging  word  was  a  misera- 
ble shake  of  the  head  and  the  groan — 

"■  Oh  !  I  know  I  shall  flunk — I  wish  I  was 
dead  !  "  ' 

Bennett,  to  divert  his  mind,  called  his  atten- 
tion to  Harris  (who  happened  to  be  head-usher 
and  who  seemed   to   have  become  remarkably 


A    CURE  FOR  NERVOUSNESS  IO9 

absent-minded  about  his  duties  that  evening), 
as  he  tried  to  put  a  family  of  four  into  a  pew 
with  barely  two  sittings  left.  Just  then  the 
president  and  the  chaplain  entered  upon  the 
platform  from  the  little  door  at  the  left,  sat 
down  with  grave  dignity  in  the  high-backed 
chairs  on  opposite  sides, — and  simultaneously 
crossed  their  legs.  At  this  signal  the  orchestra 
hit  up  a  lively  two-step,  but  Curtis,  as  he 
reflected  that  he  was  the  first  on  the  program, 
felt  a  horrible  sinking  feeling  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  diaphragm  and  would  have  thanked 
some  one  to  shoot  him  and  put  him  out  of  his 
misery. 

At  the  close  of  the  two-step  the  chaplain 
arose  and  delivered  the  prayer, — the  prayer 
which  varies  not  through  all  the  exhibitions  of 
the  college  year  and  all  the  changes  of  chap- 
lains. It  is  one  of  those  prayers  in  which  no- 
body's interests  are  neglected  and  therefore 
eminently  satisfactory.  Blessings  are  first  called 
for  upon  the  college,  then  individual  mercies 
upon  the  personnel  of  the  faculty  and  board  of 
trustees,  then  upon  the  student  body  "  and  all 
their  friends  gathered  together  in  this  assembly." 
Next  the  Institute  and  High  School  are  recom- 


TIO  COLBY  STORIES 

mended  to  the  attention  of  the  Omnipresent, 
and  then  the  chaplain's  heart  broadens  suddenly 
and  he  calls  for  blessings  on  all  educational  in- 
stitutions in  the  country.  As  a  final  favor  the 
chaplain  asks  that  *'  presence  of  mind  and  sure- 
ness  of  memory  may  be  bestowed  upon  the 
participants  in  this  evening's  exercises." 

"Lest  we  forget, — lest  we  forget,"  groaned 
Curtis  in  fervent  response,  while  Bennett  for  the 
tenth  time  admonished  him  to  brace  up. 

The  prayer  is  generally  followed  by  a  lan- 
guishing serenade  from  the  orchestra,  but  Cur- 
tis could  not  have  told  you  whether  they  played 
anything  at  all;  he  heard  nothing  till  the  an- 
nouncement, *'  Mr.  Curtis,"  fell  on  his  ears  like 
the  call  to  execution. 

Then  the  forlorn  creature  stumbled  out  of 
his  pew  and  marched  to  the  choir  without  a 
thought  in  his  head  and  with  cold  terror  in  his 
heart. 

Those  who  have  taken  part  in  college  exhi- 
bitions will  remember  the  pair  of  steps  leading 
from  the  choir  to  the  platform.  As  Curtis 
placed  his  foot  on  the  second  step,  to  his  hor- 
ror, it  went  through  the  strip  of  carpeting, — 
down,  with  a  painful  scraping  of  his  shin,  into 


A    CURE  FOR  NERVOUSNESS  III 

something  soft,  and  he  fell  sprawHng  on  his 
hands  over  the  edge  of  the  platform.  Those 
on  the  floor  of  the  house  heard  the  fall  but 
could  see  little  ;  but  in  the  galleries,  which  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  choir  curtain,  there  was 
an  amused  smile  on  every  face  and  much 
stretching  of  necks.  This  increased  to  a  ripple 
of  laughter  as  Curtis  picked  himself  up,  draw- 
ing the  unlucky  foot  out  of  the  trap  and  tear- 
ing his  trouser-leg  in  several  places  at  once 
on  some  ugly  nails  evidently  put  there  for 
the  purpose, — exhibiting  to  his  unspeakable 
horror  a  foot  and  leg  covered  with  green 
paint. 

At  the  sound  of  the  laughter  in  the  galleries 
several  young  women  in  the.  back  of  the  house 
jumped  to  their  feet  and  strained  their  eyes 
nearly  out  of  their  sockets  in  the  excitement  of 
the  moment  and  their  anxiety  not  to  miss  the 
fun. 

A  great  wave  of  wrath  poured  over  the  soul 
of  the  poor  victim  and  swept  away  every  trace 
of  his  nervous  fear. 

*'  They  think  they  'II  keep  me  from  speaking, 
do  they,"  he  thought  to  himself  savagely. 
'*  Not  if  I  know   myself!"     And   in  a  moment 


112  COLBY  STORIES 

the  entire  audience  saw  a  young  man  gracefully 
bow  to  the  astonished  president  and  then  to 
themselves, — a  young  man  with  a  foot  and  leg 
splashed  with  green  paint,  the  trouser-leg 
hanging  almost  in  strips  about  his  ankles,  and  a 
trail  of  green  footprints  behind  him. 

The  longed-for  had  happened  !  The  Sopho- 
mores had  done  something  funny  after  all,  and 
the  great  audience  shook  with  a  gale  of  laugh- 
ter. Curtis  expected  this  and  he  stood  before 
them  defiant  and  contemptuous,  his  eyes  flash- 
ing and  his  hands  clenched  by  his  side.  He 
could  n't  forget  his  speech  if  he  had  to  stand 
there  ten  years  waiting  for  the  laughing  to 
cease,  and  he  z^^?^/(ispeak  whether  they  burned 
the  house  over  his  head  or  shot  at  him  from  the 
front  seats. 

After  a  moment  the  audience  settled  into 
silence,  feeling  a  little  ashamed  of  itself,  with 
the  exception  of  the  inevitable  hysterical  per- 
sons who  can  never  stop  laughing  when  once 
started.  Curtis  had  an  excellent  selection  and 
one  admirably  adapted  to  his  present  disposi- 
tion. He  had  done  well  in  rehearsals  but  never 
had  he  put  into  it  the  fire  and  the  life  that 
thrilled  it  now ;   his  fierce   determination   killed 


Never  had  he  put  into  it  the  fire  and  the  life  that  thrilled 
it  now." 


A    CURE  FOR  NERVOUSNESS  II3 

every  trace  of  self-consciousness  and  swept  him 
along  triumphantly. 

The  house  stilled ;  even  the  gigglers  felt  that 
they  were  getting  somehow  conspicuous  and 
managed  to  control  themselves,  the  English 
professor  beamed  through  his  glasses  with  sur- 
prised delight,  while  Bennett,  who  had  groaned 
aloud  when  he  heard  Curtis  fall,  stared  with 
open-mouthed  astonishment. 

When  it  was  over,  Curtis  made  a  bow, 
hopped  down  the  awkward  distance  between 
the  platform  and  the  choir  as  gracefully  as  could 
be  expected,  and  came  down  to  his  seat  amid 
the  most  enthusiastic  applause  that  ever  greeted 
a  speaker  in  all  the  much-speaking  history  of 
that  church. 

Two  ushers  rigged  up  a  pair  of  steps  by  a 
combination  of  a  stool  found  in  the  vestry  and 
a  pile  of  organ  books,  and  the  exercises  went 
on.  When  Bennett's  turn  came,  he  disappoint- 
ed nobody,  but  when  the  orchestra  had  breathed 
its  last  and  the  judges  returned  from  the  ante- 
room, the  chairman  of  the  committee  came  for- 
ward, and,  after  the  usual  preamble  concerning 
the  unusual  excellence  of  the  evening's  perform- 
ance, announced  that  the  first  prize  was  award- 
9 


114  COLBY  STORIES 

ed  to  Richard  Henry  Curtis  and  the  second 
prize  to  Arthur  Freeman  Bennett.  The  hearty 
applause  that  followed  made  it  evident  that  the 
awards  suited  the  audience  very  generally,  and 
while  a  candid  critic  would  have  told  you  that 
Bennett's  performance  was  undoubtedly  more 
artistic,  an  exhibition  of  pluck  goes  a  great  deal 
farther  than  aesthetics  with  the  average  com- 
mittee of  awards,  and  certainly  no  one  was 
more  delighted  than  Bennett  himself 

After  Curtis's  classmates  and  college  friends 
had  put  him  through  the  siege  of  back-slapping 
and  hand-shaking,  they  began  to  discuss  the 
scheme  of  the  trap  itself.  The  Sophomores 
were  severely  reprimanded  for  setting  the  thing 
after  the  president's  admonition,  but  as  a  class 
they  disclaimed  knowledge  of  the  act,  declaring 
that  they  had  voted  to  keep  all  disturbances  out 
of  the  church  in  accordance  with  the  wish  of  the 
Powers.  A  close  examination  of  the  mutilated 
step  showed  that  the  upper  board  had  been 
sawn  away  under  the  strip  of  carpet  and  the  car- 
pet itself  slit  above  so  as  to  give  in  at  the  slightest 
pressure  and  let  the  unwary  foot  into  the  wide 
pail  of  paint  placed  just  beneath.  Since  that 
time,  by  the  way,  the  pair  of  steps  placed  there 
has  been  uncarpeted. 


A    CURE  FOR  NERVOUSNESS  II5 

For  some  days  the  general  impression  was 
that  a  few  Sophomores  had  devised  the  trick 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  rest  of  the  class, 
and  the  feeling  was  strong  that  such  a  trick  was 
unworthy  of  any  class  as  the  whole  weight  of  it 
came  upon  a  single  individual.  Then  a  Fresh- 
man remembered  using  that  step  on  the  morning 
before  the  exhibition  as  he  went  into  the  church 
to  rehearse,  and  as  Freshmen  kept  watch  in  the 
church  all  day  it  would  have  been  difficult  for 
Sophomores  to  have  set  such  an  elaborate 
trap  that  afternoon.  The  talk  finally  centered 
on  Harris,  who  had  spoken  and  acted  rather 
queerly  about  the  affair,  and  who  happened  to 
have  been  the  class  watchman  in  the  church  the 
last  three  hours  of  the  afternoon.  Harris  was 
cornered  and  forced  to  admit  that  he  was  the 
guilty  man. 

A  howl  of  indignation  arose  at  the  idea  of  a 
man's  turning  traitor  to  his  own  classmate  out 
of  mere  personal  jealousy.  A  class-meeting 
was  called — the  only  one  in  which  Harris  did 
not  make  his  presence  known — and  the  motion 
was  put  to  drop  Harris  formally  as  a  member  of 
the  class.  Curtis  was  the  only  one  who  objected 
to   the   action ;   he  pleaded   for  the   culprit,  de- 


Il6  COLBY  STORIES 

daring  at  last  that  personally  he  was  under  great 
obligations  to  Harris,  for  the  pail  of  paint  was 
the  only  thing  that  saved  him  from  an  utter 
flunk. 

Harris  did  not  wait  for  further  developments 
but  wrote  home  that  the  college  was  not  large 
enough  for  him, — as  indeed  it  was  not, — and 
made  a  rapid  exit  from  the  campus,  emitting  a 
string  of  damns  that  applied  to  the  college,  the 
class,  and  Curtis  in  particular. 

"That  was  a  fire-of-coals  speech  you  made 
this  morning,"  remarked  a  classmate  as  he  en- 
tered Curtis's  room  after  the  class-meeting. 

"Thanks,  but  you  're  a  liar  as  usual,"  returned 
Curtis  cheerfully,  "  what  I  said  was  simple  fact. 
I  shall  always  be  glad  to  give  my  testimonial  to 
the  wonderful  effects  of  the  Harris  treatment  for 
nervousness ;  it  is  a  sure  cure, — apply  exter- 
nally, and  if  you  are  as  scared  as  I  was,  you 
will  shake  well  before  taking." 


THE   LEG    THAT  FAILED 

Adam's  leg  had  been  expected  for  several 
weeks,  now. 

No  one  need  base  a  clue  to  identity  on  this 
name.  I  have  merely  chosen  to  give  the  name 
of  the  first  man  to  the  first  man  of  my  story, — 
its  hero. 

Adam,  not  in  person  but  represented  by 
friends,  on  the  way  home  from  the  post-office 
called  daily  at  the  office  of  the  American  Ex- 
press Co.  By  this  agency  was  the  expected 
member  to  be  delivered.  To  be  sure  the  pack- 
age would  reach  Adam  at  the  Bricks.  But, 
should  it  come  on  the  early  morning  train,  sev- 
eral hours  might  be  saved  by  getting  it  at  the 
express  office.  And  several  hours  is  an  impor- 
tant item  when  it  is  the  case  of  a  leg  or  no  leg. 
At  any  rate,  so  thought  Adam.  Stumping 
around  several  months  on  one  foot  and  two 
sticks  naturally  makes  a  man  look  forward  to 
an  easier  mode  of  locomotion. 

Then  add  to  this  the  liability  of  the  crutches 


Il8  COLBY  STORIES 

to  disappear  at  inopportune  times.  If  Adam 
laid  aside  these  visible  means  of  support  for  a 
few  minutes  while  in  the  reading-room,  or  if 
he  fell  into  meditation,  to  which  he  was  prone, 
or  if  he  lost  himself  in  the  heat  of  argument,  he 
did  not  always  find  them  at  hand  when  reached 
for. 

This  disappearance  was  usually  at  the  hands 
of  one  of  the  three  whom  he  regarded  as  his 
chief  friends.  They,  "  Larry,"  "  Forrie,"  and 
"  Charley,"  also  occupied  somewhat  the  place 
of  grand  inquisitors.  The  heresy  to  be  brought 
to  light  was  Adam's  tempen  To  tease  Adam 
was  one  of  their  recreations.  Nor  was  the  pro- 
cess entirely  disagreeable  to  him.  I  have 
noticed  that  nearly  every  one  likes  to  be  teased, 
provided  it  is  by  the  right  person,  at  the  right 
time,  in  the  right  way,  and  is  not  carried  too 
far.     Adam  was  no  exception. 

It  often  went  too  far  with  him,  however. 
Then  it  was  the  part  of  prudence  for  his  tor- 
mentors to  keep  out  of  reach  of  his  crutch,  or 
remove  the  weapon  of  offense.  For  wielded 
by  his  powerful  right  arm  the  stick  would 
describe  such  vicious  circles  as  would  have 
driven  the  Professor  of  Logic  frantic.     Nor  was 


THE   LEG    THAT  FAILED  II9 

the  process  entirely  without  danger  to  the  stick 
itself,  which,  as  well  as  surrounding  objects, 
animate  or  inanimate,  ran  the  risk  of  annihi- 
lation. 

Yet  Adam's  wrath  was  of  short  duration.  He 
was  the  last  person  to  harbor  resentment.  So 
these  three  tormentors  were  his  trusted  emissa- 
ries to  the  express  ofhce. 

The  winter  vacation  of  188-  Adam  had  spent 
at  the  hospital  in  Portland.  To  be  rid  of  a 
troublesome  foot  his  right  leg  had  been  ampu- 
tated just  below  the  knee.  Since  the  opening 
of  the  spring  term  he  had  been  back  among  us. 
It  was  now  nearing  the  middle  of  May. 

Intimations  of  the  coming  "  high  tide  of  the 
year"  were  on  every  hand.  There  were  cer- 
tain "  signs  of  spring  "  that  had  ''  never  failed 
us  yet."  The  carnpus  had  gone  through  its 
annual  change.  The  watchfulness  of  Sam, 
ably  seconded  by  his  assistant,  "  Rabbit," 
could  not  prevent  the  customary  from  hap- 
pening. 

[n  spite  of  their  vigilance  the  campus 
changed  one  night  from  dreary  brown  to  dirty 
black.  Until  driven  into  the  ground  by  the 
rains,  there  were  little  patches  of  grayish-white 


I20  COLBY  STORIES 

ashes  where  the  dead  grass  had  been  thickest. 
Gradually  the  black  changed  to  green,  giving 
ample  opportunity  for  the  time-honored  inter- 
change of  jokes  in  color  between  the  witty 
Freshman  and  Sam. 

There  were  other  indications,  no  less  to  be 
relied  on,  of  balmier  days  than  this  *'  sea- 
change  "  of  the  campus.  Behind  the  colleges 
the  willows  w^ere  in  full  leaf.  The  maple  leaves 
were  well  along  towards  maturity.  From  the 
river  came  the  odor  of  spruce  logs,  making  you 
sniff  again  for  their  spicy  sweetness.  The  old 
railroad  bed  on  sunny  afternoons  was  alive  here 
and  there  with  solitary  figures,  pacing  book  in 
hand.  If  those  ''pacing  there  alone"  were 
co-eds  (the  women  of  the  college  had  not  yet 
been  advanced  backwards  to  the  dignity  of 
co-ords),  the  solitary  figure  was  at  least  two. 

From  day  to  day  the  Freshmen  gathered  in 
little  groups  under  the  trees  at  their  Horace. 
The  Freshman  reading  was  now  happily — that 
is,  unhappily — over;  a  thing  of  the  past,  at 
any  rate.  Why  should  not  these  embryo 
Sophs,  rejoice  with  their  Horace  out  in  the 
''balm  and  the  blossoming"?  And  how  well 
Horace   and   the   springtime    go    together.       I 


THE  LEG    THAT  FAILED  121 

wonder  if  it  is  the  poet  in  the  Professor  of  Latin 
that  put  the  Horace  in  the  spring  term ;  or 
was  it  merely  the  result  of  what  Adam  would 
have  called  a  '*  meaningless  concatenation  of 
events,"  emanating  from  some.trustee  or  faculty 
meeting?  However  that  may  be,  each  succes- 
sive class  has  felt  the  fitness,  and  has  rejoiced 
that  it  was  so. 

Every  afternoon  the  Juniors  went  to  their 
experimental  chemistry  in  Coburn  Hall,  secretly 
envying  those  who  could  be  out  of  doors,  and 
yet  reconciled  to  their  long  afternoon  imprison- 
ment among  unsavory  odors  by  the  thought 
that  they  were  getting  one  of  the  very  best 
things  of  their  college  course  under  the  faith- 
fulest  of  teachers. 

The  Sophomores,  meeting  by  twos  and 
threes,  congratulated  themselves  that  they  had 
passed  through  the  year  with  ranks  undepleted, 
a  thing  which,  considering  all  that  the  last 
eight  months  had  brought  forth,  was  remark- 
able.  The  Seniors  felt  the  breath  of  the  Senior 
vacation  close  at  hand.  Their  thoughts  would 
continually  go  out  to  that  after-commencement 
period  when  they  should  first  begin  to  livCy 
forgetting  that  this,  too,  had  been  life. 


122  COLBY  STORIES 

Yes,  the  editors  of  the  ''  Poet's  Corner "  in 
the  Echo  were  not  the  only  ones  aware  of 
certain  sure  indications  of  spring.  For  some 
weeks  the  boys  had  awakened  each  morning  to 
hear  the  song  of  the  sparrows,  the  sweetest 
singers  among  our  early  bird  visitors  from  the 
South.  The  bluebirds  added  their  cadence  to 
the  morning.  From  the  very  tops  of  the  wil- 
lows or  the  elms  the  robins  poured  forth  their 
call.  A  few  days  earlier  the  gleam  of  the  first' 
oriole  had  been  seen  in  the  elms. 

Each  morning  Adam  would,  if  it  were  fair, 
thrust  his  head  out  the  window  to  drink  in  the 
beauty  of  the  new  day.  He  would  glance  at 
the  robin's  nest  in  the  branches  right  opposite 
his  window  (his  room  was  on  the  fourth  floor, 
and  so  among  the  treetops).  usually  to  find  the 
mother  bird  on  the  nest.  Then  his  eyes  would 
wander  to  the  ground  and  follow  the  path  out 
to  the  street,  and  then  across  to  the  station 
beyond.  When  the  gleam  of  the  red  roof  of 
the  baggage-room  met  his  eyes  he  would  won- 
der, '*  Will  it  come  to-day  ?  If  it  does  n't 
come  to-day,  I  '11  write  and  stir  them  up," 
thought  Adam.  It  was  a  resolution  that  he 
had  made  twenty  times  before,  but  had  never 
carried  out. 


THE  LEG    THAT  FAILED  1 23 

On  this  particular  Wednesday  morning  in 
May  the  window,  after  a  trick  it  sometimes  had 
and  in  the  stealthy  way  of  inanimate  objects 
bent  on  mischief,  descended  slowly  and  noise- 
lessly towards  the  back  of  its  intended  victim. 
It  did  not  catch  him  this  time ;  rather,  it  caught 
him  in  another  way. 

*'  Larry "  came  around  the  corner  from  the 
direction  of  the  gym.,  gnawing  with  the  few 
teeth  he  had  left  a  russet  apple.  The  protrud- 
ing head  was  too  much.  "  Larry "  had  not 
caught  on  the  nine  two  years  and  nailed  men 
at  second  for  nothing.  The  half-eaten  apple 
flew  straight  for  the  mark.  Adam  drew  back 
his  head  violently  just  in  time  to  escape  the 
missile,  which,  splitting  against  the  window- 
frame,  spattered  window  and  Adam's  face  with 
juice  and  bits  of  apple.  The  back  of  his  head 
hit  the  frame  of  the  descending  window.  That 
head  was  of  the  hardest,  yet  unable  to  support 
the  collision  without  some  damage  to  the  scalp 
and  more  to  the  temper. 

Adam  let  fly  a  few  strong  words,  such  as  he 
has  often  used  since  in  his  professional  life,  I 
dare  say,  though  not  in  the  same  sense,  and 
with  a  different  emphasis. 


124  COLBY  STORIES 

As  Adam  stumped  down  stairs  that  morning 
on  his  way  to  breakfast  he  saw  on  the  hall  floor 
a  pin  with  its  head  towards  him.  Superstition 
was  not  altogether  dead  in  him,  though  a 
Senior.  He  picked  the  pin  up,  putting  it  in 
the  bottom  of  his  vest  in  the  company  of  others 
of  its  kind  similarly  gathered. 

''  That  means  good  luck.  My  leg  will  come 
to-day,"  he  thought. 

A  moment  later  he  caught  sight  of  '*  Forrie;" 
who  called  ''Hullo,  Adam,  where 's  y'r  leg; 
come  yet?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  with  serenity,  and  a  note  of  cock- 
sureness  incident  upon  the  pin  episode,  "  but 
it'll  be  here  to-day,  I  think." 

''  Forrie  "  laughed  the  laugh  of  the  skeptic ; 
but  Adam  was  right. 

The  arrival  of  the  eastbound  ''  Yankee  "  that 
afternoon  found  some  fifty  of  the  boys  at  the 
station.  Among  them  was  Adam.  Try- 
ing to  appear  unconcerned,  he  scanned  the 
express  packages  narrowly  as  they  were  taken 
from  the  car.  No  parcel  of  the  probable  size 
and  shape  was  there.  The  train  drew  out. 
The  express  wagon  rumbled  away  down  town. 
The    dust   from    its  wheels    drifted    across   the 


THE  LEG    THAT  FAILED  1 25 

campus,  overtaking  and  surrounding  Adam  on 
his  way  to  his  room. 

The  few  chronic  **  pluggers,"  whom  not  even 
this  fine  afternoon,  and  a  hoHday  at  that,  could 
tempt  out  of  doors,  heard  the  melancholy  and 
somewhat  spiteful  thump  of  crutches  ascending 
the  three  long  flights  of  stairs.  The  sound 
became  measured  and  more  muffled  as  he 
reached  the  upper  hall  and  walked  its  length. 

A  rattle  of  the  key  in  the  lock,  a  slammed 
door,  a  crutch  striking  the  floor  too  hard  to 
have  been  merely  dropped,  showed  the  state  of 
Adam's  mind.  The  ''plug"  in  the  room  di- 
rectly underneath  jumped  in  surprise  at  the 
noise ;  the  lamp  on  his  table,  never  too  steady 
on  its  base,  started  in  a  tremulous  dance. 

Adam  had  no  hopes  of  the  local  train  from 
Portland  to  Bangor,  which  was  due  an  hour 
and  a  half  after  the  "  Yankee."  He  took  up  a 
book,  and  soon  vexation  and  disappointment 
were  forgotten  in  the  works  of  Dr.  Johnson. 
In  a  half  hour  or  so  he  laid  down  Johnson  and 
took  up  Macaulay.  These  were  the  two 
authors  he  chiefly  admired,  and  after  whom  he 
tried  to  pattern  his  style.  His  admirers  thought 
that  at  his  happiest  he  equaled  or  even  excelled 


126  COLBY  STORIES 

these.  Adam  was  much  of  the  same  opinion, 
and  certainly  his  diction  was  ponderous  with 
''words  of  learned  length  and  thund'ring  sound." 
Deep  in  the  essay  on  ''  Milton,"  he  did  not 
notice  the  arrival  or  the  departure  of  the  Ban- 
gor local.  He  was  aroused  from  his  absorption 
by  a  roar  of  voices,  amid  which  he  detected 
his  own  name  pronounced  in  a  manner  insult- 
ing to  a  man's  dignity  — '' A-dam."  ''In  the 
pauses  of  the  wind  "  from  some  half  hundred 
throats  he  could  hear  the  rumble  of  wheels. 
The  express  wagon  was  coming  up  the  drive, 
escorted  by  a  chorus  of  shouting  boys.  The 
numbers  increased  every  moment.  A  glance 
told  every  one  what  had  happened.  Adam's 
leg  was  come.  South  College  emptied  itself. 
The  reading-room  was  deserted.  The  noise 
penetrated  even  into  the  quiet  of  the  Library. 
It,  too,  was  speedily  left  to  the  Librarian  and 
the  co-eds.  To  them  the  Professor  remarked 
sarcastically  that  education  was  the  one  thing 
of  which  people  were  7iot  anxious  to  get  their 
money's  worth.  From  all  sides  trooped  the 
boys  to  rejoice  with  Adam,  now  that  he  had 
found  again — in  a  little  different  form,  to  be 
sure — the  piece  of  him  that  had  been  lost. 


THE  LEG    THAT  FAILED  1 27 

Into  the  south  hall  of  North  College  they 
thronged,  **  Forrie,"  **  Larry,"  and  '*  Charley," 
with  the  precious  bundle  between  them,  at  the 
head.  Adam,  eyes  sparkling,  beatific  grin,  open 
door  and  open  mouth,  stood  ready  to  receive 
the  package  and  his  visitors.  It  bore  the 
familiar  stamp  of  the  American  Express  Co. 
Lower    down    Adam's     delighted    eye    read : 

"Adam    ,    Colby    University,     Room    — , 

North  College,  Waterville,  Maine," — just  as 
Adam  had  ordered  it  done.  The  minute  ad- 
dress was  not  so  much  for  the  enlightenment 
of  the  agent  of  the  local  express  company,  who 
knew  well  enough  where  to  find  him ;  it  was, 
rather,  a  bit  of  harmless  vanity  on  Adam's  part, 
designed  to  impress  duly  the  firm  which  had 
the  honor  of  furnishing  the  artificial  leg. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Adam's  leg,"  proposed 
"Forrie."  "Hurrah  !"  yelled  the  boys.  Above 
all  rose  the  exultant  voice  of  Adam.  He  cer- 
tainly had  the  most  reason  to  shout.  In  a 
frenzy  of  delight  he  clambered  on  to  the  bed. 
One  foot  and  one  crutch  supported  him.  The 
other  crutch  waved  in  triumph  over  his  head ; 
the  banner  of  a  hope  fulfilled,  describing  not 
vicious  circles  but  curves  of  exultation.       His 


128  COLBY  STORIES 

voice  rose  higher, — higher  than  ever  before. 
The  robin,  frightened  from  her  nest  in  the  tree 
outside,  though  well  used  to  noises,  darted 
away.  The  boys,  crowding  for  a  better  view 
and  a  nearer  approach  to  the  scene  of  action, 
extended  out  into  the  hall.  On  the  outskirts 
hovered  the  "  plugs."  The  excitement  was 
too  much  even  for  them.  A  lamp  fell  with  a 
crash,  and  the  odor  of  kerosene  filled  the  room. 
What  cared  Adam?  A  chair  gave  way  under 
the  combined  weight  of  four  men,  who  all  tried 
at  once  to  rise  ^by  its  aid  above  the  heads 
of  their  fellows.  What  did  Adam  care  about 
a  chair  to  sit  in  now  that  he  had  two  feet  to 
stand  upon.  It  would  take  more  than  these 
minor  accidents  to  check  his  spirits  and  lower 
the  pitch  and  power  of  his  hurrahs. 

Gradually  the  crowd  became  silent.  Adam, 
seated  on  the  side  of  the  bed,  was  opening  the 
box.  He  was  now  undoing  the  last  wrap- 
pings— his  dark  face  lighted  up  like  a  gloomy 
mountain  lake  under  a  burst  of  sunshine. 

Suddenly  his  face  changed.  It  wore  a 
momentary,  surprised,  dazed  expression.  His 
countenance  darkened.  His  teeth  snapped 
together.      His  hand   once  more  clinched   the 


THE  LEG    THAT  FAILED  1 29 

discarded  crutch.  There  was  a  dangerous 
gleam  in  his  eye  as  he  muttered,  **  By  the  by, 
*  Forrie,'  that  was  mighty  mean."  But  "  For- 
rie "  and  his  two  fellow  leg-bearers  were  well 
towards  the  door,  with  a  compact  body  of  men 
between  them  and  the  avenging  crutch. 

As  Adam  started  to  his  feet  the  contents  of 
the  box  fell  out  on  the  bed.  There  it  lay  in 
all  its  snowy  whiteness, —  that  plaster-of-paris 
leg.  It  never  could  have  belonged  to  Adam. 
It  might  have  belonged  to  Eve. 


CLASS-SFIRIT. 

Edgar  Dillingham  was  a  typical  Colby  man. 
And  this  was  not  because  he  had  failed  to 
characterize  his  course  by  brilliant  recitations 
or  graceful  flunks,  by  stunning  entrees  in  the 
little  world  of  society  lived  by  the  Dunn  House 
and  Ladies  Hall  co-eds,  by  grand  debuts  in 
Bates-Colby  debates,  by  not  being  a  partici- 
pant in  the  Commencement  exercises  of  his 
class — not  any  one  of  these — but  he  was  typ- 
ical, because  Colby  men  called  him  typical. 
That  is  argument  enough. 

He  did  n't  make  P.  B.  K.  Well,  who  knows 
that  he  wanted  to  make  it?  For  all  we  know 
he  may  have  reasoned  as  Professor  Blank,  who 
said  that  he  "  vould  n't  join  if  they  should  ask 
him;  didn't  take  to  die  crowd."  He  mani- 
fested no  desire  to  become  the  head  of  the 
Oracle.  But  this  story  does  n't  treat  of  the 
office  aspirations  of  Dillingham.  It  means  to 
show  very  poorly  what  Dillingham  had  to  do 


CLASS-SPIRIT  131 

with  the  making  of  a  healthy  class-spirit  in 
ninety-blank.  Do  n't  mind  the  coloring.  Even 
women  paint — bon-bon  dishes,  you  know. 

Dillingham  was  popular;  he  couldn't  count 
his  friends  if  he  tried.  Some  men, — aye,  a 
great  many  men  may  be  excellent  students, 
very  agreeable  fellows,  particularly  at  cramming 
time — more,  very  perfect  fellows;  but  despite 
all  of  these  excellences  they  utterly  fail  to 
"get  in  with  the  boys."  They  are  they  who, 
bereft  of  friends,  take  life  as  a  burden.  They 
grow  desperate;  they  invite  the  "  upper  crust" 
around  of  a  night,  set  up  the  cigars  and — 
moxie,  play  a  couple  of  tables  of,  say,  Authors, 
crawl  into  bed  at  three  in  the  morning,  and  fall 
like  a  thousand  of  bricks  before  **  Stet "  and 
''Dutchy"  in  the  forenoon's  recitations.  For  a 
week  thereafter  they  hear  the  thundering 
reverberations  of  the  ^Egean  depths,  and  **  O-o, 
oh,  Mr.  Roberts !   I  vill  cut  you  out." 

Such  men  forget  the  words  of  Baillie, — 
**  Friendship  is  no  plant  of  hasty  growth." 

Dillingham  never  bought  friends  at  the  sacri- 
fice of  his  principles,  he  never  relied  for 
** pulls"  on  the  traditional  tales  of  his  early 
ancestors.     But  it  is  n't  for  an  old  grad.  nor  a 


132  CO  LB  V  S  TORIES 

young  grad.  to  say  just  what  Dillingham 
had  done  to  bring  himself  into  the  centre  of 
so  admiring  a  circle  as  that  in  which  he  found 
himself  toward  the  end  of  his  collegiate  years 
— because  he  does  n't  know.  One  thing,  how- 
ever, was  evident  enough — he  was  popular. 
He  had  been  chosen  Senior  president,  had 
played  on  the  'Varsity  elevens  since  Freshman 
days,  was  the  head  of  the  loyal  working  force 
of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  Besides,  he  had  of^ciated 
at  many  college  functions,  was  a  frequent  col- 
umn-and-a-half  contributor  to  the  pages  of  the 
Echo — that  paper  whose  editor  and  make-up 
changed  as  often  as  the  sands  of  the  ocean, — 
and  the  boys  said,  found  time  to  attend  every 
rarebit  and  fudge  convocation  held  inside  a  five- 
mile  radius  of  the  Bricks.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  writer,  an  old  fudge  lover  himself,  admired 
his  pluck. 

It  is  Commencement  time  now.  The  story 
I  am  to  tell  you,  as  truthfully  (and  with  the 
coloring  of  which  I  spoke)  as  memory  will 
allow,  began  about  a  year  ago,  at  the  time  of 
the  Senior  class  election.  Als  Brown,  like  his 
father  before  him,  was  a  man  of  political  aspi- 


CLASS-SPIRIT  133 

rations.  He  had  long  set  his  heart  on  the 
presidency  of  the  Senior  class.  He  had  never 
questioned  but  that  every  one  else  wanted  him 
president;  in  this,  also,  he  was  very  like  his  dad. 
In  some  unexplainable  way  he  had  cajoled 
three  men  of  his  class  to  his  support.  They 
had  even  guaranteed  in  the  ardor  of  their 
Brownish  enthusiasm  a  little  speechmaking  on 
the  eve  of  the  election.  Well,  the  eve  came, 
and  with  it  a  very  formidable  opponent  to  the 
Brown  element.  The  last  plank  in  the  platform 
drawn  up  urged  the  nomination  by  acclamation 
of  Edgar  A.  Dillingham,  the  opponent. 

"  I  hear  Brown  is  running  against  you,"  said 
Egbert,  slapping  Dillingham  on  the  shoulder. 

"Is  he?"  queried  Edgar.  ''Well,  every 
man,  I  suppose,  has  a  right  to  aspire  to  any 
old  office  he  chooses.  I  never  allow  oppo- 
nents to  bother  me." 

The  election  came.  Some  one  in  a  vigorous 
speech  nominated  Dillingham  for  class  presi- 
dent. The  three  Brown  men  kept  mum,  and 
when  it  came  to  voting,  there  were  four  scatter- 
ing votes  marked  '*  A.  Brown." 

"Speech!   speech!" 

Dillingham   got  up   and   accepted  the    class 


134  COLBY  STORIES 

gift  with  appropriate  words.  I  see  him  now, 
with  those  broad  shoulders  supporting  an  intel- 
Hgent  head,  and  that  honest  face  with  the 
pleasant  smile. 

The  very  next  time  Dillingham  met  Brown, 
Brown  snubbed  him  straight. 

Cheering  the  Halls !  Ah !  What  memories 
then  ! 

While  Dillingham  led  his  class  this  day  in 
the  cheering  he  did  not  feel  at  all  satisfied  with 
his  college  course.  The  farewell  to  the  college 
home  was  bitter. 

He  led  his  followers  along  the  walk  to  Reci- 
tation Hall.  The  great  limbs  of  the  maple  and 
elm  above  them  seemed  to  wave  a  farewell, 
too.  Within  those  brick  walls  he  had  many 
times  flunked  the  genial  Greek  Prof.,  but 
he  couldn't  remember,  now,  that  Als  Brown 
had  ever  fallen  there.  Selfishly,  perhaps,  he 
believed  that  that  same  genial  man  respected 
him,  likely  as  well  as  Als.  He  recalled  what  the 
Prof,  had  said  in  his  speech  before  the  assem- 
bled students  on  the  occasion  of  a  football 
victory,  '*  Mr.  Dillingham,  in  large  measure,  is 
responsible  for  this  victory  for  our  college." 


CLASS'S  PIR 17'  135 

There,  too,  he  had  fallen  before  ''Jude," 
''Cosign,"  and  *' Dutchy."  What  hours  in 
that  north  room  of  third  floor !  That  bust  of 
stern  old  Cicero,  that  colored  map  of  Rome, 
— all  in  that  room  were  memories  now.  But, 
whether  he  chanced  to  meet  the  faculty  men  on 
the  street  or  at  the  president's  receptions,  he 
ever  received  from  them  a  kindly  word.  He 
recalls  how  Als  at  one  of  these  stately  gather- 
ings cornered  the  professor  of  mathematics  and 
plied  him  with  every  nameable  question  on  Art 
— her  use  and  abuse.  How  disconcerted  and 
vexed  the  good  man  seemed.  Then  Als  was 
overheard  telling  the  wife  of  one  of  the  faculty 
men  that  her  husband  worked  more  hours  than 
any  other  one  of  the  professors.  This  for  any 
other  man  in  the  world  to  say  would  have 
taken  a  deal  amount  of  gall.  He  remembers 
what  his  division  boys  had  said  of  Brown,  that 
he  had  no  match  for  wire-pulling  in  Colby — yet 
he  made  Phi  Beta  Kappa. 

Now  they  were  cheering  the  Gym.  Dilling- 
ham remembered  how  on  that  very  afternoon 
"  Doc "  Frew,  the  Gym.  instructor,  met  him 
and  said,  "Well,  we're  going  to  lose  Dilling- 
ham, are  we?     Don't  be  surprised  if  you  hear 


136  COLBY  STORIES 

that  Colby's  centre  is  weak  this  fall,  will  you  ?" 
Then  he  and  the  doctor  had  a  talk  on  athletics, 
Edgar's  opinion  being  asked  about  the  matter 
of  a  coach.  "Yes,"  said  Dillingham,  when  he 
was  by  himself  again,  *'  the  doctor  and  I  are 
good  friends."  Yet,  all  these  reminiscences 
did  not  soothe  his  troubled  spirits;  if  anything, 
they  vexed  him  the  more  for  having  thought 
them. 

The  last  cry  had  been  flung  hoarsely  against 
the  rock-sides  of  the  old  chapel ;  the  crowd  of 
people  grouped  here  and  there  about  the 
college  grounds,  and  the  teams  from  the  rear 
of  the  dormitories  commenced  their  slow  march 
out  the  gateways. 

Dillingham  went  up  to  his  room  in  South 
College  to  wash  up,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
watch  the  Commencement  crowd  disperse. 
Out  in  front  of  Memorial  Hall  stood  a  knot  of 
old  grads.  and  their  wives.  They  were  telling 
tales  of  older  college  days,  and  now  and  then 
Edgar  could  catch  bits  of  the  stories.  Several 
Seniors,  with  their  caps  and  gowns  laid  aside, 
were  lolling  lazily  about  on  the  greensward, 
discussing  their  future. 

There  are   three   types  of   Colby  graduates, 


CLASS-SPIRIT  137 

the  characteristics  of  each  being  particularly 
noticeable  at  Commencement  time.  They  are, 
first,  that  small  body  of  individuals  who  have 
long  since  solved  that  difficult  problem, 
"What  am  I  to  do  in  life?"  This  body  you 
are  always  running  up  against  at  any  college 
function ;  this  body  of  men  seem,  to  the  eye, 
free  from  all  worry;  they  rush  hither  and 
thither,  begging  programs  from  the  bewildered 
ushers  of  Fresh  year,  seeing  that  all  the  details 
of  the  big  day  go  off  with  a  snap  and  vigor 
that  is  refreshing;  second,  that  larger  portion 
of  the  class,  the  individuals  of  which  haven't 
any  idea  about  the  future  other  than  that  they 
must  soon  bid  her  good-by,  and  go  home  to 
papa  and  mamma  with  the  one  hope  that  they 
will  have  worked  out  their  future,  and  can  tell 
them  just  what  to  do ;  third,  the  perhaps 
largest  percentage  of  the  class,  the  boys  of 
which,  vacillating,  undecided,  just  wish  to  get  a 
crowd  of  sympathetic  spirits  about  them  and 
tell  how  perplexing  is  that  old  problem  of  Life. 
This  last  type  was  represented  by  the  Senior 
boys  whom  Dillingham  recognized  from  his 
windows.  In  the  centre  of  the  group  Edgar 
noticed  Brown.     He  felt  a  throb  of  hot  blood 


138  COLBY  STORIES 

course  through  his  veins.  Brown  was  the  only 
man  in  college  with  whom  Dillingham  was  not 
on  the  best  of  terms.  Since  class  election, 
almost  a  year  back,  Brown  had  not  spoken 
to  him. 

Every  man  in  college  had  learned  the  nature 
of  the  feud  between  the  two  upperclassmen, 
and,  naturally  enough,  blamed  Brown  for  it. 
One  of  the  Sophs  had  the  audacity  to  step 
up  boldly  to  Brown,  who  was  on  his  way  from 
the  Observatory  one  day,  and  say,  "  I  've  got 
my  opinion  of  a  man  who  will  lecture  us 
Sophs  on  class-spirit,  yet  hasn't  spoken,  just 
because  he  could  n't  get  the  office  of  his  aspira- 
tions, to  his  class  president  for  a  whole  year.  A 
peach  of  a  man  to  talk  about  class-spirit,  col- 
lege loyalty,"  and  a  good  abundance  of  other 
guff,  which,  coming  from  an  underclassman, 
deserved  for  him  as  sound  a  thrashing  as  some 
wayward  predecessors  had  received. 

Brown,  be  it  remembered,  had  never  ceased 
making  things  disagreeable  for  Dillingham  in 
all  the  class-meetings;  ever  ready  to  throw 
cold  water  on  every  move  suggested  by  Edgar; 
ever  ready  to  cite  instances  where  Dillingham 
used  favoritism  for  his  frat — and,  be  it  remem- 


CLASS-SPIRIT  139 

bered,  too,  that  few  men  would  have  stood  a 
half  of  what  Dillingham  did.  There  came  a  time, 
as  such  times  come,  when  Als  saw  the  errors  of 
his  way,  and  a  great  change  became  percepti- 
ble in  his  manner.  He  left  off  his  wire-pulling, 
treated  all  students  with  respect,  and  gradually 
attracted  about  him  a  goodly  number  of  college 
chums. 

It  was  a  few  days  before  the  college  would 
finally  close  her  doors  for  the  long  vacation 
when  Leary  whacked  his  cane  impetuously 
against  the  flooring  of  his  room,  and  asked  of 
his  room-mate  a  very  jDertinent  question,  **Why 
in  the  name  of  the  Continental  Congress  does  n't 
Als  shake  hands  with  Dillingham,  and  call  it 
square?  You  know  yourself.  Chum,  that 
Edgar  has  never  really  disliked  Als,  and  Als 
knows  that,  too,  and  since  Brown  has  acted  the 
ass  so  long,  why, — well,  I  'm  not  preaching, 
but  then,  why  on  earth  aren't  they  friends?" 

"That  is  well  put,  Mr.  Leary;  I  think  we 
are  all  of  one  opinion  about  that,  however," 
rejoined  his  room-mate,  looking  very  like  the 
official  head  of  Colby.  Then  continuing, 
"  Would  you  have  Dillingham  get  down  on  his 
knees  to  Als?     No  !" 


140  COLBY  STORIES 

"  No,  surely  not,  but  we  ought  to  get  them 
togeth— " 

''Editorial  weT'  queried  the  room-mate. 
''  Now,  Leary,  old  man,  let  us  not  mix  up  in 
any  class  quarrel ;  things  are  coming  our  way, 
for  I  feel  all  will  be  well  in  the  end.  I  know 
just  as  well  as  you  that  because  of  this  quarrel, 
which  is  wholly  Brown's  doings,  the  old  spirit 
of  ninety-blank  is  gone.  We  are  not  to  blame, 
and  I  can't  see  that  we  can  successfully  bring 
the  two  men  together.  Speaking  of  that 
good  old  spirit,  do  you  remember  the  exit  of 
our  class  Freshman  year?  We  were  banded 
together  as  brothers,  then.  But  now," — the 
student's  mind  went  back  over  the  four  years. 
What  glorious  times  he  had  had  with  his  fellow- 
classmen  !  "  Say,"  he  continued  thoughtfully, 
"  do  n't  you  suppose  Brown  knows  how  we  feel 
about  this  matter?  He's  blinder  than  a  bat  if 
he  does  n't ;  but  we  've  got  a  day  or  two  yet 
before  we  break  up  for  good." 

"Break  up?"  Leary  rose  and  stood  before 
his  room-mate.  **  Confound  you,  chum,  you 
promised  you  wouldn't  say  that  again!"  and 
thereupon  he  proceeded  to  seize  him  by  one 
leg  and  tumble  him  upon  the  bed.     The  two 


"  Dillingham  .  .  .  raised  his  hat  politely  to  the  co-ed 
with  Brown." 


CLASS-SPIRIT  141 

boys  lay  there  some  time  listening  to  the  poor 
Soph  in  the  room  below  swearing  and  yelling 
vociferously,  while  trying  to  cram  out  his  next 
day's  special  exam.  You  may  call  him  a  Har- 
vard flugy  a  Yale  grind,  or  a  Princeton  -poler ; 
Colby  calls  him  a  crarmncr. 

Dillingham  had  come  back  late  from  his 
supper.  He  passed  a  great  many  upperclass- 
men  with  their  co-eds  on  their  way  to  the  con- 
cert in  Memorial  Hall.  He  hurried  on  up 
College  avenue,  lifting  his  hat  right  and  left  to 
his  many  acquaintances.  Just  opposite  Ladies 
Hall  he  passed  by  his  old  enemy,  Brown.  Dil- 
lingham, with  the  pride  of  a  gentleman,  raised 
his  hat  politely  to  the  co-ed  with  Brown.  To 
his  great  surprise  Brown  returned  the  bow  very 
nicely.  *'  A  little  extraordinary,"  mused  Dil- 
lingham ;  **  I  can't  quite  fathom  the  reason  for 
that,  coming  now  just  at  the  end  of  our  course. 
Have  n't  seen  him  bow  for  a  year,  co-ed  or 
no  co-ed.  Just  respect  for  that  pretty  Colby 
girl,  that's  all."  Thus  Edgar  settled  matters  in 
his  own  mind,  but  there  was  a  breast  that 
heaved  heavily,  and  a  mind  that  reasoned,  "  He 
must  have  understood  that  I  meant  it," — both 
belonged  to  Als  Brown. 


142  COLBY  STORIES 

Dillingham  went  on  up  the  walk  leading  to 
South  College,  stopping  just  long  enough  to 
reply  to  a  group  of  fellow-classmates,  that  he 
would  n't  be  at  the  concert  that  evening.  He 
had  only  a  moment  before  reached  that  deci- 
sion. He  offered  no  explanations  to  the  fel- 
lows ;  college  men,  as  a  rule,  never  offer  expla- 
nations. You  must  know  that  if  a  man  says  he 
is  busy,  the  question.  What  have  you  to  do? 
is  never  expected ;  so  it  becomes  a  college  law 
that  it  is  not  appropriate.  The  football  and 
baseball  managers  have  their  letters  to  write, 
their  schedules  to  make ;  the  Oracle  editor 
has  enough  to  do,  you  may  be  sure ;  the  Echo 
editor  must  write  his  droning  editorials  to 
stimulate  a  ''healthy  college  spirit";  the  inter- 
collegiate debater  must  argue  points  with 
*'  Rob,"  and  practise  that  pet  position  and  ges- 
ture, all  alone,  before  his  mirror;  the  musical 
club  managers  and  leaders  must  arrange  dates 
for  performances  and  work  up  new  selections ; 
and  besides  all  these,  there  is  the  statistic  man 
for  the  Oracle,  who  will  announce  to  the  world 
just  how  much  ninety-blank  weighs,  who  will 
vote  the  Democratic  ticket  in  the  city  election, 
the    exact   '' tonnage "   of   each    man,  whether 


CLASS-SPIRJT  143 

Julia  says  "By  gosh  darn  "  or  "  Goo,  goo"  for 
"  an  expression  "  ;  there  is  the  man  who  drums 
up  Y.  M.  C.  A.  dues;  the  man  who — well, 
every  one  is  busy ;  even  the  lazy  man  is  busy 
■ — he  must  have  time  for  his  smoke.  Edgar 
was  busy;  he  did  not  have  one  thing  to  do 
now;  he  was  just  simply  personally  engaged — 
he  wanted  time  to  think. 

He  went  up  to  his  room  and  threw  himself 
upon  his  couch.  He  realized  that  the  end  of 
his  college  days  had  come,  and  somehow 
he  did  n't  want  them  to  come  just  then.  He 
did  n't  want  consolation  exactly — he  could  n't 
locate  any  troubles ;  no,  he  did  n't  wish  to  see 
any  one,  not  even  his  dearest  friend,  big  Joe 
Lawrence,  the  full-back.  He  lay  there  some 
time,  thinking  of  nothing  in  particular  and 
about  everything  in  general.  He  heard  his 
division  boys  run  down  the  winding  stairs, 
slamming  the  doors  with  a  bang  that  made  the 
bricks  on  the  old  building  rattle.  He  heard 
Collins  from  up  the  college  walk  call  out  to 
Junior  Harriman  to  hustle  up  or  they  would  be 
late.  Leary  was  assuring  his  room-mate  in  the 
adjoining  room  that  he  wouldn't  recognize //^r 
till    she    recognized    him,     On    this    he  would 


144  COLBY  STORIES 

safely  bet  his  last  twopence.  Another  fellow 
from  third  floor  was  borrowing  **  Chum's  collar 
and  necktie."  He  listened  now  as  the  men 
passed  beneath  his  windows  along  the  gravel 
walks.  ''What  lingo!"  he  said  to  himself. 
''Teddy  is  rank — she's  all  right  and — strong 
man  for  'varsity — punch — swelled  head,  that's 
all — Jude's  a  brick  for — B.  U.  cancels  every 
game — do  Bowdoin  up  easy — college  spirit's 
all  right—" 

"What!"  cried  Edgar,  pulling  the  side  cur- 
tain back,  "  Als  Brown  says  college  spirit  is  all 
right ! "  Dillingham  watched  the  retreating 
figure  through  the  darkness.  "  Yes,"  he  con- 
tinued, turning  away,  "it's  this  confounded 
mood  I'm  in ;  college  spirit  is  all  right — I 
guess." 

Dillingham  knew  that  the  concert  would  soon 
begin,  and  he  would  not  be  there.  He  almost 
decided  to  go,  but  something  teased  him  to  re- 
main away,  so  he  lay  back  on  the  couch 
again.  The  building  was  very  quiet  now;  only 
occasionally  did  he  hear  steps  on  the  gravel 
walks  outside.  Presently  he  heard  the  orches- 
tra strike  up  the  opening  selection.  He  could 
not  hear  it  very  well  so  he  went  downstairs  to 


CLASS-SPIRIT  145 

the  Stone  steps  and  sat  down.  Now  there  crept 
over  DiUingham  a  very  disagreeable  feeling  of 
loneliness;  just  such  a  sensation  as  comes  to 
the  Maine  farmer's  boy  when  he  balances  him- 
self at  evening  time  on  the  top  fence  rail,  listens 
to  the  plaintive  notes  of  the  wood-bird,  and 
dreams  of  the  golden  road  to  fame.  You've 
been  in  Dillingham's  place?  Then  you  know 
how  poorly  I  tell  this  bit  of  my  story. 

His  college  days  were  over.  He  remembers 
this  time  last  year, — how  far  away  the  end  of 
his  Senior  year  seemed  then,  and  now,  here  he 
was — at  the  end.  Was  he  satisfied  with  him- 
self? Something  told  him  that  he  was  not. 
He  might  have  studied  harder  and  made 
P.  B.  K.  and  a  part  at  Commencement, — if  only 
he  had  crammed  a  little  more,  at  least,  as  much 
as  his  enemy  Brown.  Yes,  Brown  had  beaten 
him  out;  he  felt  it  now,  yet  he  was  not  envious. 
"Als  should  feel  happy  as  he  listens  to  that 
sweet  music,  knowing  that  he  has  graduated 
with  honors,"  mused  Edgar.  "Here  I  am,  sit- 
ting and  looking  very  like  a  bump  on  a  log." 
He  was  not  thinking  how  much  his  eulogistic 
Greek  professor  respected  him,  nor  how  the 
other  members  of  the  faculty  stopped  him  on 


146  COLBY  STORIES 

the  Street  and  chatted  pleasantly.  In  his  own 
way  of  reasoning,  you  see,  he  was  a  very  un- 
wise and  foolish  man. 

Dillingham  sat  with  his  head  bowed  in  his 
hands,  half  listening  to  his  mumbled  words, 
and  half  to  the  sweet  music  which  now  floated 
out  to  him  in  all  the  beauty  that  the  crack  Com- 
mencement orchestra  could  give.  Something 
moved  him  to  look  up;  he  was  astonished  to 
see  Brown  pass  by.  He  thought  he  stopped, 
then  hurried  on.  "Why  isn't  he  at  the  con- 
cert?" Edgar  asked  himself.  Then  he  hap- 
pened to  think,  perhaps  Brown  intended  enter- 
ing the  building,  and  hesitated  to  do  so  because 
he  was  there.  He  would  go  somewhere  else ; 
he  would  not  give  him  annoyance  the  last  day 
they  would  be  together  as  classmates.  So  Dil- 
lingham got  up  and  strolled  out  under  the  trees 
in  front  of  North  College.  He  hoped  that  he 
would  be  alone  there;  he  was  disappointed. 
Several  people  paced  back  and  forth  on  the 
lawn,  possibly  having  the  same  spell  of  loneli- 
ness as  himself.  He  would  turn  back  and  go 
down  through  the  willows  to  the  river.  He  had 
not  gone  twenty  paces  when  he  came  face  to 
face   with   Brown   again.     The    same    apparent 


CLASS-SPIRIT  147 

pause  in  Brown  as  if  to  speak,  then  he  turned 
abruptly  aside  to  let  Dillingham  pass.  ''Con- 
found it!  "  said  Edgar  under  his  breath,  "you 
don't  imagine  he  intends  to — "  He  listened 
awhile  to  the  music  that  seemed  to  him  far 
sweeter  than  before ;  it  was  galloping  on  in 
good  time  to  his  heart-beats,  then  he  finished  a 
broken  sentence — ,  "be  a  ninety-blank  man 
again?" 

Dillingham  passed  down  through  the  great 
willows  that  stretched  to  the  river.  He  walked 
very  slowly,  for  the  moon  only  occasionally 
shone  through  the  towering  trees  to  light  the 
narrow,  grass-trodden  path.  He  could  see  at 
the  further  end  of  the  avenue  of  massive  trunks 
the  river  that  glistened  in  the  soft  rays  of  the 
moon,  as  it  glided  on  to  the  sea.  He  noticed 
the  poplar  and  maple  trees  that  lined  the  river's 
bank,  outlined  so  clearly  against  the  ruddy 
east. 

Can  you  not  recall  just  how  this  beauty 
spot  of  nature's  appeared  to  you,  graduate, 
when,  tired  of  a  Commencement  day's  program, 
you  wandered  down  between  the  hedges  of 
trunks  of  willow  trees,  just  as  the  light  rose 
above    the    eastern    hills    and    the    rays    crept 


148  COLBY  STORIES 

Stealthily  into  the  valley?  Do  you  not  recall  a 
time,  when  the  world  seemed  too  big  for  you, 
when  the  objects  for  which  you  strove  seemed 
narrow  and  insincere,  you  strolled  up  the  old 
railroad  line,  till  the  woods  met  you  back  of  the 
Shannon  Observatory,  and  you  admired  the 
beauty  of  the  river  and  the  scenery  all  about 
you?  Well,  if  you  have  missed  that  view  by 
night,  with  the  songs  of  the  happy  college  boys 
mingling  in  strange  contrast  with  the  thoughts 
you  harbor,  when  the  dormitories  with  every 
window  ablaze  lighted  the  whole  back  campus, 
then  you  have  not  seen  the  beauty  of  old 
Colby. 

It  was  such  a  scene  as  this  that  Dillingham 
looked  upon.  If  anything,  it  made  him  even 
sadder.  There  was  no  mistaking,  he  loved  his 
college.  He  felt  perhaps  a  little  ungrateful  at 
himself  because  he  had  not  made  more  out  of 
his  college  course,  yet,  had  he  not  entered  a 
green,  country  lad?  had  he  not  become  popu- 
lar with  the  men  on  that  august  faculty  and  with 
college  men?  was  he  not  now  a  well-formed — 
aye!  a  clean,  typical  Colby  man?  He  may 
have  felt  all  this  and  admitted  it,  but,  despite 
the  fact  of  his    advancement  in  popularity,  of 


CLASS-SPIRIT  149 

gaining  an  excellent  physique  and  so  on,  he 
could  not  help  feeling  gloomy  and  displeased. 

He  stood  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  leaning 
against  the  railing  that  led  down  to  the  water 
below.  He  could  only  faintly  hear  the  band 
now;  of  this  he  was  glad.  A  mill-hand  came 
down  to  the  bank,  unloosed  his  boat  and  rowed 
across  to  the  opposite  shore.  Edgar  watched 
him  as  he  climbed  up  the  steep  embankment 
and  disappeared  between  the  long  stretch  of 
brick  buildings.  As  he  watched  he  felt  a  per- 
ceptible shadow  fall  before  him.  Turning 
quickly,  he  saw  a  student  step  from  the  shade 
into  the  moonlight — it  was  Brown.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  two  men  stood  there  face  to  face ; 
then  Brown  came  forward,  put  out  his  hands, 
and  Dillingham  took  them. 

"Edgar,"  began  Brown  huskily,  **I — " 

"Old  man,"  interrupted  Dillingham,  '*  I'm 
glad  of  this." 

"Say,  Edgar,  I've  just  been  waiting  for 
an  opportunity  like  this  for  weeks.  Wanted 
to  give  you  a  good  old  ninety-blank  handshake, 
and  ask  pardon  for  all  my  foolish  acts." 

Edgar  attempted  to  speak,  but  Brown  went 
on  with  increased  courage : 


150  COLBY  STORIES 

"You  have  been  too  gentlemanly  to  me,  Dil- 
lingham. What  have  I  done  for  you  to  deserve 
any  of  your  good-will?  Nothing!  I've  made 
an  ass  of  myself  from  first  to  last,  while  you, — 
you  are  ready  to  graduate,  tackle  something 
else ;  you  have  friends  in  abundance,  have  an 
all  round  education — " 

"I?  Ha!  ha!— why,  I  couldn't  make  Phi 
Beta  Kappa,  while  you — " 

"Yes,  I  admit  it;  I've  made  it — but  what  of 
that?  What  practical  good  will  a  wagon  do  a 
man  when  he  has  no  horse?  P.  B.  K.  is  a  very 
good  thing  to  make  when  a  man  has  educated 
himself  all  round.  Y'ou  are  far  better  off  than 
I,  Dillingham, — just  because  I  imagined  about 
all  in  this  world  was  Ego^  Ego^  ^^o ;  set  my- 
self up  as  a  little  Grecian  god,  you  know.  Now, 
thank  God,  things  have  changed;  I've  tried  to 
better  my  condition ;  I  think,  looking  back, 
I've  done  pretty  well.  But  there  was  one  thing 
I  did  not  do  and,  Dillingham,  it  has  been 
a  keen  regret — that  is,  come  to  you  as  I  have 
done  to-night,  act  the  part  of  a  true  college 
man,  become  good  friends.  The  students  out- 
side our  class  know  that  I  have  destroyed  the 
good-feeling ;   that  cuts  me.    Even  a  Soph  twit- 


CLASS-SPIRIT  151 

ted  me  of  it  just  the  other  day ;  I  could  n't  an- 
swer his  charges  for  he  spoke  the  truth.  What 
nights  I  have  passed  in  old  North  College,  think- 
ing over  our  affair, — no,  my  affair !  Once  I  de- 
cided to  pack  up  and  go ;  for  three  frat-nights 
I  waited  on  the  campus  to  meet  you,  but  you 
always  came  up  with  the  crowd,  and  so  it  has 
gone  on  till  now.  Dillingham,  I  never  loved 
my  college  before ;  I  love  her  now — at  the  end. 
Can't  you  and  I  be  friends?" 

"Brown,"  said  Dillingham,  simply. 

Then  Dillingham  slipped  his  arm  behind 
Brown  and  took  his  hand  ;  Als  did  the  same  to 
Dillingham.  Thus  the  two  boys  stood,  locked 
together  after  the  good  old  college  way, — 
friends,  while  before  them  they  saw  the  river 
flowing  noiselessly  on,  over  them  the  willows 
sang  softly,  and  in  the  souls  of  the  two  boys 
the  God  of  Love  worked  strangely. 

-Well!  Well!  Well!!  Well!!!  good  old 
friends  again,  like  good  old  Colby  stock!"  sang 
a  chorus  of  voices  behind. 

"  By  swum  !"  puffed  Big  Joe  Lawrence,  the 
full-back,  ''this  is  altogether  too  much  to  keep 
inside ;   I  would  propose  that  Colby   yell.     It 


152  COLBY  STORIES 

would  give  me  great  pleasure,  gentlemen,  on 
this  most  auspicious  occasion  to  lead  off.  One, 
two,  three — 

C-0-L-B-Y  !  RAH  !  RAH  !  RAH  !  (  Three 
it  Dies.) 

Dillingham  and  Brown-nn  !" 

The  yell  rang  out  loud  and  clear.  It  would 
have  attracted  little  attention  from  the  crowd  of 
men  returning  from  the  concert,  they  thinking 
it  merely  an  outburst  of  pent-up  patriotism, 
or  a  last  time,  had  they  not  heard  distinctly 
the  names  of  the  two  Seniors  long-drawn  out 
at  the  close.  Some  twenty-five  men  were 
speedily  transferred  to  the  willows.  Well,  now, 
you  may  think  there  wasn't  a  pretty  joyous 
reunion  down  there  in  the  moonlight.  We  all 
pounded  each  other  and  yelled  like  demons. 
Do  n't  be  shocked,  old  grad.,'t  was  just  the  bless- 
ed blood  of  old  ninety-blank  coursing  through 
our  veins  again.  Leary  proposed  a  march  back 
to  the  Bricks.  Good-natured  Big  Joe  with  his 
''swums"  and  his  soul  of  patriotism  brought 
up  the  rear,  singing  up  strong  and  joyously  "In 
Praise  of  Alma  Mater."  The  whole  line  joined 
in  the  last  verse. 


CLASS-SPIRIT  153 

"Thrice  blest  the  task  that  she  has  done, 
In  binding  us  to  one  another, 
In  making  each  a  loyal  son. 
And  each  to  each  a  loyal  brother. 

••  And  so  with  filial  pride  we  raise 
Our  song  in  Alma  Mater's  praise, 
And  so  with  filial  pride  we  raise 
Our  song  in  dear  old  Colby's  praise." 

The  boys  were  standing  on  the  lawn  in  front 
of  South  College,  it  seemed  an  hundred    strong. 

"  This  has  n't  been  anywhere  near  joyful  enough 
for  me,"  drolled  out  the  full-back.  *'  Come  up 
here,  Leary,  let's  holler!  Now,  boys,"  he 
added  after  a  yell  or  two,  "  I  want  every  Senior 
up  in  my  room ;  we'll  have  a  little  spread  up 
there  in  honor  of  this  occasion."  This  declara- 
tion was  greeted  with  vociferous  cheers.  Law- 
rence looked  upon  the  men  about  him,  brought 
his  hands  together  with  a  terrible  snap,  and 
added  as  a  sort  of  convincing  proof, — '*By 
swum  !  !  Never  felt  quite  the  way  I  do  now. 
We'll  have  a  class-meeting  that'll  be  the  longest 
one  any  class  ever  had,  else  my  name's  Jehu." 

Then  Joe  was  for  business.  "Here,  Fresh- 
man— oh,  you  sensitive  Soph  ! — you've  learned 
a  mighty  truth  to-night,  one  that  ought  to  stick 


154  COLBY  STORIES 

in  your  mind  forever,  that  class-spirit  and  friend- 
ship are  tolerably  near  to  synonymous  terms; 
and  so,  sir,"  he  added  impressively,  **the 
straightest  path  for  a  virtuous  man  is  the  path 
of  duty,"  he  pointed  cityward,  and  tapped  his 
shoe  sternly  against  the  stone  step,  "  Go  !  young 
man,  order  for  me  at  once  food  of  the  proper 
kind  that  shall  fill  the  bellies  of  these  here  as- 
sembled,— the  Staff  of  Life,  young  man,  with 
pork  or  deviled  ham  interlaid ;  likewise  punch 
— Maine  punch — five  gallons,  sir,  to  quench 
the  appetites  of  a  wicked  and  perverse  genera- 
tion of  college  men.  Go  !  "  And  the  student, 
glad  to  do  favor  to  the  genial  full-back  joyfully 
skipped  down  the  walk.  **Tell  him,  Mac,  that 
Big  Joe  wants  it  or  you  won't  get  it."  Mac 
waved  his  hat  in  reply  as  he  boarded  an  electric 
car  for  the  city. 

"What's  the  matter  with    Joe?"  cried  some 
one. 

-He's  all  right!" 

''Who  said  so?" 

-C-0-L-B-Y!   RAH!  RAH!   RAH! 
C-O-L-B-Y!" 

Then  the  men  sang.     Some    fifteen    faculty 
men  went  down  in  various  omnibuses  and  were 


CLASS-SPIRIT  155 

kicked  out  of  Hades  before  Joe,  even,  vowed 
he  hadn't  another  breath  left.  Then  Joe  is- 
sued the  final  order  for  all  Seniors  to  re-assemble 
in  his  room.  Tables  that  had  heretofore  sup- 
ported long  rows  of  dictionaries  and  football 
paraphernalia,  were  now  laden  with  humanity ; 
chairs  were  borrowed  from  adjoining  rooms, 
pillows  were  hurled  across  the  room  at  intervals, 
and  Brown  and  Dillingham  joined  most  heartily 
of  any  in  the  festivities  that  were  then  making. 

There  was  a  rap  on  Joe's  door.  ''  Come  in  !" 
he  fired. 

Thump  !  thump  !  swish  !  swash  !  sounded 
the  litde  barrel  as  it  rolled  into  the  crowded 
room ;  then  in  came  boxes  and  bundles  of  food 
and  baskets  of  dishes. 

''Open  her  up,  Dillingham  !" 

"There  was  an  old  man  from  Skowhegan,  Maine." 

*'Say,  Als,  get  out  that  food  !" 
♦'Reuben  Haskins  was  his  name." 

"Come,  Leary,  wash  up  those  glasses!" 

*'  Came  to  the  city  to  have  some  fun, 
And  he  ain't  had  a  darn  bit  since  he  come." 

ordered  and  sang  good-natured  Big  Joe  Law- 
rence. 


156  COLBY  STORIES 

It  was  long,  long  past  the  midnight  watch 
when  that  crowd  on  that  memorable  night 
broke  up.  As  Dillingham  tumbled  into  his  bed 
that  morning,  he  could  not  recall  a  time  when 
he  had  felt  happier,  when  he  thought  life  so 
worth  the  living.  He  lay  for  a  long  time  look- 
ing out  through  the  elm  trees  at  the  blinking 
arc  light  on  the  street  corners,  recalled  what 
Brown  had  asked  about  being  friends,  and 
remembers  now  that  he  had  shaken  hands  with' 
Brown, — yes,  Als  Brown — and  he  was  somehow 
happy,  very  happy.  Finally  he  closed  his 
eyes,  mumbled  a  few  broken  sentences  to  no 
one  in  particular,  saying : 

"  I  feel  all  right — now, — college — loyalty, 
class-spirit, — Brown  and  I — Colby  has  done  a 
heap — for — me,"  and  dropped  off  to  sleep. 


UNVARNISHED  TALES 


THE  ENTERPRISE  OF  FRESHMAN  D. 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  the  Colby  campus  as 
I  saw  it  in  the  fall  of  1879.  There  was  about 
it  none  of  the  primitive  air  of  the  early  days  of 
the  college ;  and  it  was  lacking  then  two,  at 
least,  of  the  noble  buildings  which  now  adorn 
it.  The  turf  of  the  campus  had  then  known  no 
other  lawn-mower  than  the  mouth  of  the  ever 
faithful  Sam's  cow,  no  tennis  courts  had  ap- 
peared, and  there  wa"^  much  unevenness  and 
irregularity  where  now  all  is  trim  and  neat.  But 
the  glories  of  autumn  were  as  triumphant  then 
as  they  ever  become  now.  Indeed,  as  I  look 
back  upon  the  delightful  days  when  the  college 
course  began,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  autumn  of 
'/9  at  the  Colby  campus  was  the  most  glorious 
I  have  ever  known.  And  it  seems  perfectly 
natural  that  the  overflowing  boyish  spirits  which 
congregated  on  the  campus  at  that  time  should 
have  been  as  perpetually  alert  for  mischief  as 
for  study. 


l6o  COLBY  STORIES 

President  Robbins  was  the  able  but  distant 
divinity  who  ruled  our  student  destinies.  He 
seemed  to  have  an  eye  that  would  pierce  a  cul- 
prit's mind  as  the  modern  X-ray  searches  the 
bones  and  tissues;  and  his  awful  presence  sug- 
gested Olympian  Jove  to  more  than  one 
trembling  Freshman. 

Mischief  was  perilous  in  the  days  of  Dr. 
Robbins,  and  for  this  reason  I  think  it  became 
unusually  attractive.  Even  the  Freshmen  felt 
the  contagion ;  and  one  of  them  was  a  leader  of 
the  exploit  which  I  am  about  to  relate. 

At  that  time  there  were  many -sawmills  in 
Fairfield,  and  the  hauling  of  edgings  to  Water- 
ville  to  be  sold  for  kindling  wood  was  a  regular 
industry,  pursued  with  success  by  several  French 
residents  of  Fairfield.  One  of  the  most  famous 
of  the  merchants  w^as  an  aged  Gaul,  locally 
known  as  '*  Forkey."  He  was  a  man  of  orig- 
inal wit  as  well  as  commercial  enterprise,  and  I 
believe  that  some  of  his  sayings  found  their  way 
into  the  Editor's  Drawer  of  Harper's  Mag- 
azine, where  they  amused  the  nation  for  that 
month. 

One  night  about  dusk,  when  the  wind  was 
making    the    leaves    dance    over    the    campus, 


♦.""••i^^L.f 

^r  ^t* 

iW>«i 

WlL 

o 


THE  ENTERPRISE  OF  FRESHMAN  D.      l6l 

'*  Forkey's  "  cart  appeared  on  the  Fairfield  road, 
with  the  usual  load  of  kindling  wood,  and  pro- 
ceeded by  the  colleges.  Nearly  in  front  of  North 
College  the  horse  stopped,  and  presently  fell.  I 
do  not  know  the  trouble.  The  local  horse  doctor 
— it  was  before  the  days  of  the  veterinary  sur- 
geon— made  public  no  bulletin.  The  animal  was 
taken  away  and  the  cart  with  its  load  of  edgings 
was  left  by  the  roadside  in  front  of  North  College. 

Among  the  students  was  the  Freshman  D. 
He  is  now  a  well-known  and  highly  respected 
New  England  clergyman,  a  builder  of  churches 
and  gatherer  of  flocks.  The  expectations  but 
not  the  responsibilities  of  this  career  were  even 
then  upon  him. 

On  that  autumn  evening  a  great  temptation 
overmastered  him ;  and  sundry  other  youths 
delivered  themselves  over  to  the  temptation 
without  being  overmastered.  Ropes  were  taken 
from  the  gymnasium,  stray  ladders  were  "com- 
mandeered "  in  the  town,  and  before  daylight 
the  cart  and  its  load  were  placed  safely  on  the 
high  roof  of  Memorial  Hall.  The  kindling  wood 
was  nicely  loaded  on  the  cart,  and  everything 
was  ready  to  start,  provided  "Forkey"  could 
replace  his  sick  horse  with  a  Pegasus. 


1 62  COLBY  STORIES 

Long  before  prayers  the  cart  was  discovered, 
and  word  was  passed  around  among  the  students. 
With  others  the  Freshman  D.  came  out  to  view 
the  sight,  and  expressed  the  conventional  won- 
der at  the  achievement. 

The  faculty  also  viewed  the  cart,  and  were 
soon  deliberating  in  formal  assembly. 

It  was  feared  that  Dr.  Robbins,  with  his  pierc- 
ing eye,  had  searched  the  hearts  of  the  culprits 
as  the  boys  came  in  to  prayers,  and  the  pur- 
pose of  the  meeting  was  supposed  to  be  to 
find  a  punishment  suited  to  the  offense.  Such 
meetings  always  produce  uneasiness  in  the  stu- 
dent body,  and  the  present  case  was  no  excep- 
tion. 

There  was  one,  however,  who  felt  no  fear. 
The  Freshman  D.  marched  boldly  up  to  the 
council  chamber,  asked  admittance,  and  was 
ushered  into  the  awful  presence  of  the  faculty. 

Without  quailing  even  before  the  piercing  eye 
of  Dr.  Robbins,  he  announced  that  he  supposed 
they  were  deliberating  upon  the  best  way  of 
getting  the  cart  down. 

An  oppressive  silence  fell  upon  the  faculty, 
and  Dr.  Robbins  eyed  the  intruder  sternly. 

"I  was   going  to  say,"  continued  the  Fresh- 


THE  ENTERPRISE  OF  FRESHMAN  D.      1 63 

man  D.  with  cheery  confidence,  ''that  I  am 
working  my  way  through  college,  and  will  get 
the  cart  down  for  ten  dollars." 

**  Young  man,"  said  Dr.  Robbins  impressively, 
"we  accept  your  offer  and  appreciate  fully  your 
enterprise." 

But  in  reality  the  Doctor  only  half  appreci- 
ated the  enterprise  of  the  Freshman  D. 

'83. 


TALES  OF  THE  EARL  V  DA  YS 

One  afternoon,  as  the  writer  and  his  classmate 
of  the  Senior  class  were  walking  up  the  street 
from  the  village  after  supper,  they  noticed  in 
the  field  of  corn  by  the  roadside  a  very  well 
executed  object  in  human  form  which  the  culti- 
vator had  that  day  erected  to  protect  his  early 
corn  from  crow  depredations.  The  writer,  call- 
ing his  associate's  attention  to  the  object, 
carelessly  remarked,  "  Wouldn't  it  be  a  good 
joke  if  that  fellow  should  make  up  his  mind  to 
attend  prayers  tomorrow  morning?"  The 
writer  thought  no  more  of  the  subject  until  the 
prayer  bell  next  morning  summoned  the  stu- 
dents to  their  early  morning  religious  exercises, 
when,  sure  enough,  to  the  astonishment  of  all 
the  students  as  they  gradually  took  their  seats 
in  the  chapel,  they  beheld  the  president's  chair 
occupied  by  our  Corn  Protector  with  the  presi- 
dent's large  folio  Bible  drawn  down  into  his  lap 
and  apparently  giving  it  his  devoted   attention. 


TALES  OF  THE   EARLY  DAYS  1 65 

On  the  arrival  of  the  president,  he  violently 
seized  his  trespasser  by  the  neck  and  dragged 
him  through  the  entry,  throwing  him  with  much 
force  out  of  the  back  door. 

Legal  proceedings  were  at  once  instituted  by 
the  faculty  to  detect  the  perpetrator  of  the  act, 
it  being  well  understood  that  the  guilty  party's 
college  course  was  soon  to  end.  Every  student 
was  duly  summoned  as  a  witness  and  put  under 
oath,  except  the  members  of  the  Senior  class, 
who  were  too  well  known  as  honest,  faithful 
students  to  be  even  suspected  of  such  enormous 
guilt.  All  testified  to  their  own  innocence  and 
lack  of  knowledge  and  the  result  was  that  no 
student  did  it.  The  writer  and  his  classmate 
were  very  careful  not  to  talk  of  the  subject,  for 
neither  of  them  cared  for  any  additional  in- 
formation which  might  add  importance  to  their 
testimony  if  ever  called  into  court. 

After  graduation,  one  day,  the  classmate 
called  the  writer's  attention  to  the  subject  with 
the  closing  remark,  "You  did  it;  you  were 
the  guilty  party."  The  writer  could  but  re- 
spond to  the  charge  with  the  remark,  "  I 
always  thought  so." 


1 66  COLBY  STORIES 

One  of  the  amusing  events  which  took  place 
during  the  early  years  of  the  college  history 
was  that  which  accompanied  the  wedding  exer- 
cises of  the  president's  daughter  and  Professor 
Conant.  Although  it  was  well  known  that  such 
an  event  was  to  take  place  at  some  time  in  the 
near  future,  yet  the  particular  time  or  day  of 
the  wedding  was  kept  a  profound  secret.  About 
the  appointed  hour  of  the  evening  selected,  all 
at  once  and  unexpectedly,  the  college  bell  began, 
to  toll  its  solemn  sound.  The  evening  and  the 
night  were  unusually  dark  and  observation  with 
the  eye  was  out  of  the  question  as  to  the  cause 
of  the  ringing  or  the  mode  of  its  execution.  The 
fire  department  of  the  village  made  its  prompt 
call  but  found  nothing  to  do  in  its  way.  The 
ladder  leading  to  the  belfry  in  the  attic  had  dis- 
appeared and  no  means  of  reaching  the  bell  ex- 
isted. Where  the  bell-ringer  was  located  and 
who  he  was  were  both  secrets  not  capable  of 
explanation.  Search  was  made  in  vain  while 
the  solemn  toll  still  continued  until  about  the 
break  of  day  on  the  following  morning.  The 
morning  light  presented  to  view  a  rope  tied  to 
the  tongue  of  the  bell  and  fastened  to  an  object 
near  the  earth  at  the  north  end   of  the  college. 


TALES  OF  THE   EARLY  DAYS  1 67 

The  bell-ringer,  however,  as  it  was  afterwards 
ascertained,  did  his  duty  while  standing  at  the 
window  on  the  south  end  of  North  College  in 
the  fourth  story,  several  bed  cords  having  by 
their  connection  overcome  the  distance  between 
the  bell  and  its  ringer,  no  intervening  build- 
ing then  existing  between  the  North  and  the 
South  Colleges.  Who  was  the  bell-ringer  and 
whether  he  was  a  human  being  or  not,  were 
secrets  never  solved  or  ascertained. 

K:  *  *  *  *  «  « 

Late  one  evening  several  students  had  met 
together  for  the  fun  of  it  and  were  about  to 
pursue  their  object  into  a  later  hour  of  the 
night,  all  for  the  pleasure  to  be  derived  from 
their  anticipated  sport,  when,  all  of  a  sudden. 
Professor  Keeley  made  his  appearance  in  their 
midst.  Stepping  up  to  one  of  the  leading  mem- 
bers of  the  crowd,  he  tapped  him  gently  on  the 
shoulder  with  the  inquisitive  remark,  '*Is  it  not 
about  time  to  retire?  "  The  result  showed  that 
they  all  thought  so  and  there  the  fun  ceased. 
The  story  is  a  very  good  illustration  of  Professor 
Keeley's  high  stand  in  the  affections  and  de- 
votion of  all  the  students. 

'32. 


DANIEL   PRATT,   G.  A.   2\ 

Poor  old  cracked-brained  Daniel  Pratt ! 

He  departed  this  life  long  since,  and  the 
student  of  the  present  day  knows  of  the  peripa- 
tetic philosopher  only  through  tradition.  Twen- 
ty years  ago,  or  thereabouts,  Pratt  was  a  familiar 
figure  on  the  campus.  He  used  to  make  the 
rounds  of  New  England  colleges,  reappearing 
at  irregular  intervals,  to  become  the  victim  of 
quips  and  pranks  and  practical  jokes.  Daniel 
was  a  sort  of  high-class  tramp.  Educational 
institutions  seemed  to  have  upon  him  the  fatal 
attraction  of  the  candle  for  the  moth.  Every 
time  he  ventured  into  the  collegiate  sphere  he 
was  doomed  to  a  singeing;  but  he  could  never 
keep  away.  No  matter  how  much  he  was  made 
a  butt  of,  no  matter,  indeed,  if  rudeness  went  to 
the  point  of  personal  indignities — it  rarely  did 
— he  would  be  back  next  year,  ready  to  hold 
forth  on  any  topic,  to  any  length,  for  the  passing 
of  the  hat.     He  had  his  living  to  make,  and  in 


DANIEL   PRATT,  G.  A.   T.  1 69 

return  for  his  lectures  he  expected  a  moderate 
compensation. 

When  Daniel  died,  the  newspapers  printed 
brief  and  inadequate  biographical  sketches  of 
this  queer,  quaint,  and  original  character.  Could 
the  full  story  of  his  life  be  collected,  it  would 
make  interesting  reading  for  the  many  who  knew 
him  in  his  time. 

Transcendentalism  must  at  some  time  have 
turned  his  brain,  for  he  had  a  weakness  for  met- 
aphysical subjects  and  high-sounding  terms. 
His  discourses,  abounding  in  words  of  many 
syllables  and  consisting  of  a  jumble  of  unrelated 
and  often  grotesque  ideas,  would  have  stumped 
an  expert  stenographer.  Daniel  also  had  a 
weakness  for  titles.  The  students  of  almost 
every  college  he  visited  conferred  one  upon 
him — some  several.  The  titles  were  burlesque 
of  course,  but  he  was  wont  to  receive  them  in 
all  sincerity  and  wear  them  with  pride.  The 
one  that  stuck  permanently  was  G.  A.  T. 
(Great  American  Traveler). 

Numerous  entertaining  anecdotes  of  Pratt 
have  been  related,  and  doubtless  many  more 
are  stored  in  the  memories  of  older  graduates. 
Here  are  one  or  two. 


170  COLBY  STORIES 

On  one  of  Pratt's  visits  to  Colby,  he  was  in- 
vited by  a  throng  of  students  to  go  into  the 
room  of  the  old  Literary  Fraternity  and  hold 
forth.  He  accepted,  nothing  loath,  on  the  usual 
condition  that  the  hat  should  be  passed  and  a 
contribution  taken  up.  After  he  had  rambled 
on  in  the  customary  strain  for  some  time  on 
some  abstruse  subject  or  subjects, — for  under 
the  interruptions  and  rallying  of  his  auditors  he 
was  apt  to  wander,  though  quick  and  keen  in, 
retort, — he  began  to  look  anxious,  and  asked  if 
he  had  not  talked  about  long  enough  and  if  it 
was  not  time  to  carry  out  the  pecuniary  part  of 
the  contract.  ''  Oh,  no  !  "  was  the  reply.  *'  Go 
on  !  Go  on  !  We  have  n't  heard  half  enough. 
When  we  get  tired  we'll  tell  you.  You  shall 
have  your  pay  all  right." 

In  this  way  his  tormentors  kept  him  going 
for  at  least  an  hour,  until  he  had  talked  himself 
hoarse  and  had  used  up  most  of  the  polysylla- 
bles in  the  dictionary.  Finally,  they  passed  the 
hat  and  handed  it  to  the  expectant  philosopher. 
He  turned  the  contents  upon  the  table.  There 
were  seven  cents,  besides  a  button  and  an  old 
campaign  medal.  Daniel  collapsed  into  a  chair, 
the  picture  of  disappointment,  dejection,  and 
despair. 


DANIEL  PRATT,  G.  A.  T.  1*J1 

"  Oh,  confound  it  all !  "  was  his  remark. 
*'Pox  take  the  luck!  " 

He  could  express  himself  in  vigorous  Anglo- 
Saxon  on  occasions. 

At  another  time,  some  of  the  boys  persuaded 
Pratt  to  call  upon  Dr.  Champlin,  who  was  then 
president  of  the  college,  and  introduce  himself. 
They  represented  that  two  such  distinguished 
men  ought  to  know  each  other.  So  Pratt  went 
along  and  made  himself  known.  **  Hum ! 
Hum  !  "  said  Dr.  Champlin,  in  his  characteris- 
tic manner,  *'  so  you  are  Daniel  Pratt,  the  Great 
American  Traveler?  Well,  let's  see  you 
travel."  'yy. 


HOW  THE    TURKEY   GOBBLER    ''SAID 
BRA  VERS " 

Some  half  century  ago,  college  prayers,  dur- 
ing warm  weather,  were  had  in  an  unpretentious 
old  building,  in  a  barren  room,  whose  most  con- 
spicuous article  of  furniture  was  an  old  box 
stove.  On  the  top  of  this,  near  one  end,  was  a 
crack  which  had  gradually  enlarged  into  a  hole 
several  inches  long,  and  wide  enough  to  secure 
the  success  of  the  smart  little  enterprise  whereof 
I  am  to  tell. 

Our  president  at  that  time  was  a  man  of 
giant  proportions,  exceedingly  dignified  in  his 
bearing,  with  a  strong,  commanding  voice,  which, 
as  it  seemed  to  our  young  ears,  did  not  soften 
much,  though  in  prayers  its  tones  even  when 
addressing  the  Deity  retaining  their  magisterial 
quality. 

One  sweet  June  morning,  for  some  good  rea- 
son, we  were  all  present,  even  the  usually  tardy 
students  being  promptly  on  time.      The  sacred 


I/O IV  THE  GOBBLER  ''SAID  PRAYERS"   1 73 

word  was  read  in  the  customary  emphatic  mon- 
otone; the  students  quietly  Hstening,  atten- 
tive, save  that  not  a  few  could  have  been  seen 
furtively  eyeing  the  stove  more  than  the 
reader. 

The  holy  book  was  closed.  The  majestic 
leader  slowly  rose  to  his  attitude  of  standing 
devotion,  but  scarcely  had  his  sonorous  voice 
broken  the  waiting  stillness,  when  from  the  top 
of  the  old  stove  there  darted  the  red  flaming 
shaft  of  a  turkey  gobbler's  head  and  neck ;  then 
came  his  utterance,  sudden,  loud,  and  strong, — 
the  most  uncouth,  unmusical,  irreverent  of  all 
earthly  sounds, — "gobble,  gobble,  gobble,  lob- 
ble,  lobble,  lobble  !  " 

We  have  since  learned  that  one  hornet,  with 
his  business  end,  is  enough  to  break  up  a  camp- 
meeting.  We  learned,  then,  that  one  turkey 
gobbler  could  say  prayers  enough  in  a  second 
to  make  all  further  devotion  impossible  to  us  for 
a  week.  '63. 


'A   COINCIDENCE 

Many  of  the  students  saw  the  old  toll  bridge 
between  Waterville  and  Winslow  carried  off  by 
the  freshet  in  the  autumn  of  1869.  At  once  an 
agitation  arose  for  a  free  bridge.  The  free 
bridge  was  favored  by  most  of  the  people  of 
Waterville  and  vicinity,  and  by  many  in  Wins- 
low,  but  it  was  bitterly  opposed  by  the  people 
of  West  Waterville,  now  Oakland,  then  a  part  of 
the  town  of  Waterville.  Many  meetings  were 
held,  and  party  feeling  ran  high.  At  length, 
on  one  Saturday  afternoon  in  the  early  summer 
of  1870,  a  town-meeting  was  called  to  convene 
at  West  Waterville.  Many  of  the  students  went 
out  on  the  special  train  to  see  the  fun.  There 
was  no  hall  large  enough  to  hold  the  crowd, 
so  the  voters  lined  up  in  the  street.  A  Water- 
ville squire  was  chosen  moderator.  The  result  of 
the  meeting  was  not  favorable  to  the  free  bridge 
movement.  The  decisions  of  the  moderator 
were  thought  to  be  grossly  unjust  in  favor  of 
the  anti-free  bridge  people. 


A    COINCIDENCE  1 75 

That  night  on  their  return  to  Waterville,  most 
of  the  students  participated  in  a  serenading  party 
at  the  residence  of  the  offending  moderator. 
Suddenly  the  sound  of  the  college  horns  and  other 
equally  musical  instruments  broke  upon  the 
stillness  of  the  midnight  air,  and  cheers  were 
given  for  the  free  bridge  and  groans  for  the 
moderator  of  an  anti-free  bridge  meeting.  After 
a  little  time  a  member  of  the  family  came  out 
and  startled  the  serenaders  by  discharging  a  revol- 
ver in  their  faces,  probably  using  blank  car- 
tridges. For  a  moment  there  was  a  complete 
stampede.  But  "  stone  him"  was  soon  the  cry, 
and  the  assailant  retired  to  cover  amid  a  shower 
of  stones.  The  serenade  was  completed  accord- 
ing to  program,  and  the  serenaders  retired  in 
good  order.  At  prayers  the  following  morning 
the  president  read  the  following  passage  : 

"Yet  ye  have  not  known  him;  but  I  know 
him ;  and  if  I  should  say,  I  know  him  not,  I 
shall  be  a  liar  like  unto  you  ;  but  I  know  him, 
and  keep  his  saying.  Then  took  they  up 
stones  to  cast  at  him." 

It  was  doubtless  an  undesigned  coincidence. 

■72. 


IN  MEMORIAM 

In  the  class  of  '60  there  entered  a  young  man 
from  Mt.  Vernon,  Maine,  by  the  name  of 
Wiggen.  Of  athletic  frame  and  apparent 
strength  of  constitution,  he  bid  fair  to  become 
the  strong  man  of  the  class.  In  another  sphere 
he  might  have  proved  a  long-lived  man,  and 
this  brief  and  humble  memorial  need  not  have 
been  written. 

The  change  of  habits  from  rural,  active  life 
to  that  of  a  student  had  probably  told  upon  his 
life-springs,  and  thus  weakened  he  fell  an  easy 
victim  to  the  first  attack  of  disease. 

A  meeting  of  the  Freshman  class  was  called, 
and  a  delegation  chosen,  including  the  writer, 
to  attend  the  funeral.  From  Readfield  the  route 
was  by  stage.  The  family  of  the  deceased  were 
deeply  affected  by  the  appearance  of  his  class- 
mates and  especially  by  the  resolutions  pre- 
sented. After  the  exercises  at  the  house,  the 
remains  were  placed  upon  a  simple  bier  and 
four  of  us  bore  them  across  the  rolling  fields  to 


IN  ME  MORI  AM  1 77 

their  place  of  rest.  Returning  to  the  house,  re- 
freshments were  furnished,  and  at  the  table  the 
virtues  of  Wiggen  were  freely  discussed. 

The  event  made  a  lasting  impression  upon 
the  class,  which  in  its  exuberance  of  youth  had 
had  its  first  lesson  of  bereavement. 

Of  sterling  character  and  an  ambition  that 
called  him  to  what  he  considered  the  highest 
profession,  that  of  the  ministry,  his  early  taking- 
off  led  us  to  consider  the  mysterious  ordering 
of  Providence. 

Lest  the  meaning  of  my  words  be  mistaken, 
let  me  say,  that  '60  is  well  represented  in  **  that 
higher  calling," — the  ministry. 

This  was  the  only  death  in  the  class  before 
graduation.  '60. 

13 


NIL  DE  MORTUIS  NISI  BONUM 

In  order  to  avoid  the  semblance  of  a  violation 
of  Nil  de  mortuis  nisi  bommi,  I  have  omitted 
the  names  of  the  parties  concerned  in  this 
episode,  at  the  same  time  claiming  that,  in 
giving  the  names  the  adage  would  not  be  vio- 
lated. 

It  was  during  the  summer  of  one  of  the  late 
'50's  that  a  red-cheeked  boy,  a  member  of  an 
advanced  class  in  college,  having  been  sus- 
pended, persisted  in  violating  a  rule  of  the 
college  that  no  suspended  student  should  remain 
on  the  college  premises,  and  was  therefore 
brought  into  court  in  Waterville  by  the  president 
of  the  college. 

The  youth  in  seeking  counsel  hit  upon  a  law- 
yer, an  alumnus,  and  a  person  who,  while  he 
treasured  in  his  heart  no  animosity  for  the  prex, 
had  no  room  for  any  downright  love  for  him. 
While  in  college  this  lawyer  was  also  a  lively 
young  man,  and  during  his  season  of  greatest 
activity  had  caused   the  prex  such  annoyance 


NIL   DE  MORTUIS  NISI  BONUM  1 79 

that  he  was  frequently  remonstrated  with  and 
these  remonstrances  and  warnings  were  followed 
by  a  certain  kind  of  soreness  in  the  mind  of  the 
future  lawyer. 

Having  graduated  and  having  earned  reputa- 
tion enough  to  be  selected  as  the  orator  of  one 
of  our  Commencements,  he  waited  patiently  for 
the  day  when  he  could  pay  off  some  of  the  in- 
juries that  he  imagined  he  had  received  from 
what  he  conceived  to  be  a  too  close  inquiry  by 
the  professor  into  his  affairs  while  a  student. 

And  now  his  opportunity  had  come.  How 
much  more  comfortable  for  the  prosecuted  stu- 
dent was  that  trial  than  for  the  prosecuting  presi- 
dent !  While  the  lawyer  nobly  defended  the 
beardless  youth,  he  so  managed  his  questions  to 
the  prex  as  to  ring  in  some  of  the  offenses, 
either  real  or  imaginary,  of  the  former  professor 
towards  himself. 

Questioning  him  as  to  whether  he  thought  it 
was  a  proper  way  for  a  president  of  a  college  to 
treat  a  youth  entrusted  to  his  care,  in  the  next 
breath  he  questioned  him  as  to  whether  his  re- 
treat down  the  college  steps  before  a  rolling 
stone  hurled  by  the  lawyer  for  defense,  was  still 
fresh  in  his  memory? 


l8o  ~  COLBY  STORIES 

Evidence  pro  and  con  accumulated.  Before 
the  audience  of  students  and  citizens  the  prose- 
cuting president  now  became  an  object  of  pity, 
while  the  accused  student  was  forgotten.  With' 
falling  tears  and  quivering  lips  the  Doctor 
essayed  to  answer,  while  the  sheriff  in  charge, 
incensed  by  the  flings  of  the  lawyer  for  defense, 
undertook  to  intimidate  him  with  threats  unless 
he  was  more  merciful.  Pale  and  trembling, 
probably  from  realizing  his  responsibility  as  a 
conservator  of  the  peace,  the  sheriff,  who  was  an 
exceedingly  tall  man,  rose  to  his  utmost  height 
and  exclaimed,  "  I  know  my  duty,  sir."  The 
justice,  in  order  to  free  the  president,  declared 
for  the  prosecution. 

''Appeal!  Appeal!  Appeal!  Client!" 
shouted  the  lawyer  for  defense ;  and  lawyer, 
sheriff,  justice,  prosecutor,  prosecuted,  and  as- 
sembly were  soon  upon  the  street.  The  trial 
was  over  and  the  incident  was  closed. 

The  ruddy-faced  boy,  so  far  as  is  known,  did 
not  further  trouble  the  prex  nor  the  courts ; 
and  I  doubt  if  the  prex  did  not  shun  them  as 
zealously  as  a  prosecutor  of  offending  students. 

Of  all  the  parties  active  in  this  well-remem- 
bered episode,  the  accused,  who  has  acquired 


NIL  DE  MORTUIS  NISI  BONUM         l8l 

something  of  a  national  reputation,  is  the  only- 
one  living;  the  sheriff,  the  prex,  his  lawyer,  the 
justice,  and  the  soldier  lawyer,  all  having  passed 
to  another  sphere  of  action.  Reqiiiescani  in 
face!  '60. 


ENCOURAGED 

At  the  Commencement  festivities  in  1 87 1;  the 
world-renowned  preacher  and  evangeHst,  Rev. 
George  F.  Pentecost,  D.  D.,  even  then  a  rising 
star  in  the  Boston  pulpit,  preached  the  annual 
sermon  before  the  Boardman  Missionary  society. 
In  a  very  eloquent  and  entertaining  after-dinner 
speech  on  Commencement  day,  he  referred  to 
the  fact  that  he  had  not  enjoyed  the  advantages 
of  a  collegiate  education.  He  compared  him- 
self to  the  poor  visitor  at  the  seashore,  who 
after  his  scanty  meal  of  crackers  and  cheese, 
eaten  alone  in  some  retired  spot,  would  come 
around  to  the  veranda  of  the  most  fashionable  hotel 
and  pick  his  teeth  with  those  who  had  just  par- 
taken of  the  dainty  food  and  costly  viands  of 
the  house.  So  he,  though  not  a  college  grad- 
uate, esteemed  it  a  great  privilege  to  come 
around  and  pick  his  teeth  with  those  who  had 
enjoyed  the  advantages  of  so  noble  a  college  as 
Colby. 

This  evidently  appealed  to  the  sympathies  of 


ENCOURAGED  1 83 

one  of  the  students,  who  stepped  up  to  Mr. 
Pentecost  as  he  was  descending  the  stairs  after 
the  exercises  closed,  and  with  an  air  of  real 
solicitude  encouraged  him  with  words  to  this 
effect,  "Never  mind.  Don't  be  discouraged  if 
you  haven't  been  to  college.  You'll  make  a 
man  yet  if  you  keep  on."  '72. 


A  CURT  REJOINDER 

Dr.  Champlin  as  a  recitation  officer,  in  the 
main,  was  admirable.  In  retort  he  was  quick 
and  cutting.  The  following  incident  will  show 
how  severely  he  could  address  a  student  if  occa- 
sion required  : 

It  was  political  economy  recitation. 

Dr.  Champlin  called  up  A.  to  recite.  He 
recited  very  well  but  the  Doctor  noted  that  the 
connection  was  not  at  all  times  clear.  He 
therefore  confronted  the  student  with  the  unex- 
pected information  that  he  was  leaving  out 
something. 

The  student  rejoined  that  he  had  thumbed 
his  book  so  much  that  the  text'was  partially 
destroyed. 

''Well,"  said  the  Doctor,  **you  should  have 
thumbed  it  into  your  brain  by  this  time- — Recite, 
Mr.  B."  A.  did  not  thereafter  attempt  to  draw 
on  his  imagination  to  supply  a  worn-out  text. 

'60. 


HIGHER  AUTHORITY 

There  was  once  a  janitor  of  Waterville  Col- 
lege by  the  name  of  Martel.  He  was  styled 
the  General, 

The  writer  was  president  of  the  Republican 
Club  of  the  college.  It  was  the  summer  term 
before  the  election  of  Lincoln.  We  wanted  a 
place  to  hold  our  meetings,  and  the  General, 
who  held  the  keys  to  the  chapel,  gave  them  to 
me.  We  had  held  several  meetings  and  the 
convention  of  the  state  had  been  held  at  Bangor, 
to  which  we  had  sent  delegates,  a  student-like 
proceeding. 

Of  course  we  had  now  acquired  considerable 
notoriety  as  a  political  organization,  and  the 
faculty,  especially  Dr.  Champlin,  felt  in  duty 
bound  to  appraise  us  of  their  cognizance  of  our 
spontaneous  patriotism.  So,  meeting  the  writer, 
the  Doctor  said : 

"What  are  you  doing  in  the  chapel?  What 
meetings  are  those?" 

"They  are  political  meetings,  sir, — the  meet- 


l86  COLBY  STORIES 

ings    of    the     Republican    Club    of    Waterville 

College,  sir." 

"  But,  how  did  you  get  into  the  chapel?  " 
"Well,  sir,    we — we — went    in    through    the 

doors." 

''  But  how  did  you  get  the  doors  open?  " 

'*  With  the  only  thing  that  was  ever  known  to 

open  those  massive  structures — the  keys." 
"  But  how  did  you  get  the  keys?  " 
"  W>11,    sir,    the    General    of    the    college, — - 

General  Martel, — gave  them  to  me." 

"Ah, — but  the  General  of  whom  you  speak 

is  not  the  General  of  the  college." 

"  But,  my  dear  Doctor — must  you  suppress 

these  sentiments  in  the  minds  of  us  students  by 

denying  us  a  place  of  meeting?  " 

"  Well,  but  you  have  not  asked  me." 
"  Why  should  I  when  General  Martel  has  al- 
ready given  us  the  privilege?     If  you  deny  his 

authority, — I  ask  it  now." 

The  good  Dr.  Champlin  turned  on  his  heel. 

We  had  used  the  chapel,  were  bound  to  use  it> 

and  we  used  it  thereafter  without  question. 

'60. 


AN  EFFECTIVE  ^'WATER  TREATMENT'' 

It  was  late  autumn  in  the  sixties. 

The  tutor  in  Greek — our  pet  name  for  him 
being  "  Toot " — was  the  most  upright,  down- 
right, punctual,  accurate,  faultless  man  we  had 
ever  encountered.  Everything  about  him  went 
with  the  precision  of  clockwork ;  every  step  he 
strode  was  just  as  long  as  every  other,  and  con- 
sumed in  the  making  an  unvarying  number  of 
seconds.  He  never  joked,  rarely  smiled,  never 
got  in  the  least  irritated  or  excited.  We  held 
him  in  respect,  so  far  as  our  limited  ability  in 
that  line  allowed,  but  we  did  not  love  him.  In- 
deed, we  fancied  him  quite  too  cold-blooded  to 
ever  inspire  any  such  tender  feeling  towards 
himself,  or  to  exercise  it  towards  any  other  hu- 
man being,  even  of  the  opposite  sex ;  but  in 
this  latter  particular  we  found  ourselves  mis- 
taken. We  were  certain  he  had  no  love  for  us, 
but  we  did  discover  that  he  made  regular  noc- 
turnal trips  beyond  the  river.  Now  we  "  shad- 
owed him,"  and  found  that  his  long  evening 
walks  always  brought  him  to  a  stately  farm- 
house, the  home  of  an  exceedingly  sweet  and 
winning  young  lady. 


1 88  COLBY  STORIES 

We  watched  the  case  with  increasing  interest, 
and  it  must  be  confessed,  also,  growing  exas- 
peration. It  was  by  no  means  clear  to  us  that 
so  delicate  and  beautiful  a  prize  should  be  won 
by  a  beau,  so  old,  so  rectangular,  so  puckered 
and  forbidding  in  form  and  feature,  and  so  freez- 
ing, as  we  supposed,  in  his  inner  man.  But 
we  soon  found  that  in  this  matter  he  could  rise 
to  a  temperature  past  indication  by  any  known 
thermometer.  His  visits  grew  more  and  more 
frequent,  and  were  prolonged  far  into  the 
"small  hours"   of   the  morning. 

A  class  council,  resolved  into  a  committee  of 
the  whole,  decided  that  some  speedy  and  he- 
roic treatment  must  be  had,  or  the  case  would 
be  past  cure.  In  going  and  coming  from  the 
envied  interviews,  he  had  to  traverse  a  long 
bridge.  We  found  that  some  of  the  planks  on 
this  could  be  readily  removed.  A  dark,  frosty 
night  was  chosen.  We  felt  tolerably  sure  of 
the  time  for  his  return  trip,  and  we  could  not 
mistake  his  well-known  step  for  that  of  any 
other  night  wanderer.  Our  entire  class  was 
hidden  within  good  hearing  distance.  Planks 
enough  had  been  torn  up  to  surely  let  him 
down  over  water  too  shallow  to  drown  him,  but 


AN  EFFECTIVE  ''WATER  TREATMENT''  1 89 

sufficiently  deep  to  wet  him  all  over.  We  had 
to  wait  far  longer  than  we  expected,  thus  get- 
ting still  more  thoroughly  convinced  that  he 
had  "■  got  it  bad,"  and  was  in  desperate  need  of 
our  *'  treatment." 

At  last,  when  we  were  ourselves  well  chilled 
by  the  biting  air,  we  faintly  heard  a  tread  on 
the  farther  end  of  the  bridge.  Every  boy  took 
the  attitude  of  most  eager  listening.  The 
sound  increased  into  the  well-known  step, — 
fuller  and  stronger  it  grows, — tramp,  tramp, 
tramp.  We  picture  in  our  minds  the  delightful 
visions  which,  no  doubt,  fill  his, — the  hot  thrills 
of  joy  which  run  through  him  as  he  anticipates 
his  wedding-day,  his  honey-moon,  and  the  full 
consummation  of  matrimonial  bliss.  But  he  is 
nearing  his  Waterloo.  "  The  course  of  true 
love  never  did  run  smooth."  We  mean  it  shall 
run  into  ice-water.  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp.  We 
listen  with  bated  breath. 

!  !  Ough!  Ugh!  He  is  in  it!  We 
wait  to  hear  him  well  on  his  way  to  the 
shore,  then — save  two,  whose  job  it  is  to  re- 
place the  planks — every  mother's  son  of  us — 
guilty  wretches — is  in  bed  as  soon  as  his  legs 
will  carry  him  there.  '63. 


A    MARTYR    TO   SCIENCE 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  at  Colby  an 
eccentric  genius  and  rider  of  hobbies.  He  had 
many  hobbies,  and  he  rode  them,  sometimes 
singly,  sometimes  tandem,  and  sometimes  four 
abreast.  Nor  did  he  spare  whip  and  spur.  In 
whatsoever  he  took  an  interest,  it  was  intense 
while  it  lasted.  It  might  be  velocipedes,  it 
might  be  painting  in  water  colors,  it  might  be 
hypnotism,  it  might  be  natural  history,  anatomy, 
chemistry,  esoterics,  ancient  and  forgotten  lore, 
or  what  not;  but  whatever  was  the  fancy  of 
the  moment,  it  was  sure  to  be  pursued  with 
great  zeal.  Certain  of  his  investigations  led 
into  by  and  almost  forbidden  paths.  It  was  a 
wonder  that  he  was  not  seized  with  nervous 
prostration,  did  not  get  blown  up  by  explosive 
mixtures,  or  was  not  killed  in  experimenting 
with  toxics. 

At  one  time  his  fad  was  a  velocipede.  This 
was  in  the  day  before  the  safety  bicycle,  or  even 
the  lofty  ordinary.  The  bicycle  of  that  time 
was  a  springless  *'  bone-shaker "  of  wooden 
frame.  Our  friend  possessed  one,  and  he  rode 
it  like  Jehu.     While  the  fever  lasted,  the  bone- 


A   MARTYR    TO  SCIENCE  19I 

shaker  had  all  seasons  and  all  hours  for  its  own. 
One  of  the  diversions  of  its  owner  was  to  ride 
through  the  town  at  midnight,  pursuing  a  par- 
ticular route  to  a  certain  point  and  back.  An- 
other of  his  eccentricities  was  a  fondness  for 
toads  and  snakes,  of  which  he  often  had  speci- 
mens hopping  and  crawling  about  his  room, 
that  had  been  captured  in  country  rambles,  and 
that  sooner  or  later  became  unwilling  sacrifices 
to  the  cause  of  science. 

Having  a  bent  in  that  direction,  this  student 
had  the  medical  profession  in  view,  and  at  one 
period  was  absorbed  in  studying  the  nervous 
system  and  bony  structure  of  animals.  Do  not 
imagine  that  he  ever  practised  vivisection,  for 
he  was  too  tender-hearted  for  that.  He  wanted 
only  dead  subjects  for  experimentation. 

A  gaunt,  half-starved  tramp  cat  chanced  to 
stray  upon  the  campus.  The  would-be  Cuvier 
saw  the  animal.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he 
needed  a  cat's  skull  in  his  business.  He  petted 
pussy,  coaxed  her  up  to  his  room,  fed  her,  and 
caused  her  to  feel  quite  at  home.  Presently  he 
called  a  neighbor  in  to  witness  the  despatch  of 
poor  tabby.  He  had  an  old  revolver  of  small 
caliber  and  uncertain  action,  and   he   proposed 


192  COLBY  STORIES 

that  death  should  be  instant  and  painless. 
''  Now  see  me  shoot  her  through  the  heart. 
Kitty,  kitty,  kitty,  here,  kitty."  Kitty  came  up 
unsuspectingly.  He  took  careful  aim  and  fired. 
The  ball  went  through  the  cat's  body,  but 
without  striking  a  vital  part,  and  embedded 
itself  in  the  wall.  The  wretched  beast  sprang 
nearly  to  the  ceiling  and  ran  round  and  round 
the  room  like  a  whirlwind,  leaping  over  and 
spinning  under  furniture, — a  gyrating,  squalling, 
distracted,  and  agonized  thing.  It  was  a  laugh- 
able as  well  as  a  pitiable  sight.  The  murderer, 
now  almost  as  excited  as  the  cat,  followed  after, 
firing  wildly.  Once  he  hit  as  the  exhausted 
animal  halted  a  moment  in  her  mad  flight,  but 
more  often  he  missed,  until  the  friend,  fearing 
for  his  own  safety,  as  soon  as  he  was  able  for 
laughter,  snatched  the  pistol  away  and  placing 
it  to  the  cat's  ear  shot  her  dead. 

"  Now,"  said  the  scientist,  in  a  complaining 
tone,  '*  you  've  spoiled  my  skull." 

There  is,  or  there  should  be,  a  certain  room 
in  South  College  which  bears  to  this  day  the 
scars  of  wounds  made  by  bullets  intended  for  a 
cat  that  yielded  up  its  nine  lives  in  the  cause  of 
science.  ["JJ. 


Sam  "  addressing  Graduating  Class  at  "  Last  Chapel." 


INCIDENTS  AND  ACCIDENTS  OF  A 
FORMER  GENERATION 

BY    ONE   WHO    CAN    SAY    WITH    AENEAS  : 

♦ '  Quaeque  ipse  iiiiserriina  vidi,  et  quorum  pars  magna 

futy 

During  the  years  of  the  Civil  War  between 
the  states,  the  number  of  students  in  Waterville 
College  was  very  small.  In  the  fall  of  '64, 
however,  a  class  of  twenty-seven  entered  and 
the  following  year  nearly  as  many  more.  Be- 
tween these  two  classes  a  rivalry  that  was  some- 
times rather  more  than  a  healthy  emulation 
always  existed,  though  often  they  were  found 
pulling  earnestly  together  in  establishing  a  true 
college-spirit;  '68  and  '69  are  credited  with 
establishing  baseball  in  the  college  and 
putting  a  good  nine  into  the  field ;  they  also 
gave  the  name  of  The  Oracle  to  the  college 
annual  which  prior  to  '68  had  borne  the  villain- 
ous name  of  The  Watervillian .  It  was  while 
14 


194  COLB.Y  STORIES 

they  were  on  deck  that  the  institution  blossomed 
out  into  Colby  University,  that  the  Memorial 
Hall  was  erected,  and  that  Sam  began  his  illus- 
trious career  as  general  charge  d'  affaires. 

The  long  and  successful  reign  of  this  most 
important  member  of  the  distinguished  corps  of 
instructors  of  Colby  youth  is  due  mainly  to  the 
lessons  which  he  received  from  the  class  of  '68. 
To  be  sure,  '69  contributed  something  in  .the 
way  of  discipline.  Sam,  with  the  innocence  of 
an  unsophisticated  freedman  and  with  misplaced 
confidence  in  his  "  boys,"  undertook  the  culture 
of  turkeys  at  his  home  on  the  north  end  of  the 
campus.  That  was  more  than  the  dignity  of 
'69,  who  had  recently  shed  their  tadpole  tails, 
could  endure.  Consequently  the  head  of  the 
flock  of  turkeys  one  night  wandered  into  one  of 
the  '69  rooms  in  North  College  and  there  laid 
down  his  innocent  life.  For  some  unexplained 
reason  '68  was  invited  to  the  feast.  Probably  it 
was  in  order  that  the  guilt  might  rest  equally 
upon  both.  At  any  rate  I  can  testify  that  both 
classes  pronounced  it  a  fine,  tender-meated 
turkey  and  '68  asked  no  questions  for  con- 
science's sake. 

In  the   class   of  '69  was  one  very  industrious 


INCIDENTS  AND   ACCIDENTS  1 95 

man  who  was  seldom  found  engaged  in  any  un- 
lawful pursuits.  His  honest  countenance  and 
dignified  bearing  rendered  him  safe  from  sus- 
picion of  having  committed  any  misdemeanor. 
Yet  G.  is  the  man  who  broke  into  Professor 
Blank's  stable  after  the  family  were  all  in  bed 
one  night,  stole  the  horse  and  carriage  and  took 
his  sweetheart  to  ride.  Indue  time  he  returned 
the  rig  without  damage,  and  left  upon  the  car- 
riage seat  the  following  note :  "  Will  the 
professor  please  accept  my  thanks  for  the  use  of 
the  horse  which  I  have  driven  moderately  for 
about  ten  miles,  the  moderate  driving  being  due 
in  part  to  my  own  inclination,  but  chiefly  to  the 
condition  of  the  horse."  To  this  note  he  signed 
the  name  of  a  good  Baptist  brother  who  is  now 
pastor  of  a  large  church  in  one  of  Massachu- 
setts' manufacturing  cities. 

When  '68  entered  upon  their  Sophomore 
year  they  felt  the  weight  of  great  responsibilities 
resting  upon  their  weak  shoulders.  They 
thought  they  owned  the  college  and  could  keep 
it  running'  only  by  maintaining  a  proper  defer- 
ence for  themselves  on  the  part  of  both  faculty 
and  students.  It  was  only  after  a  few  bitter  ex- 
periences that  they  learned  the  contrary.  Among 


196  COLBY  STORIES 

Other  tasks  a  delegation  from  their  number  took 
it  upon  themselves  to  call  upon  some  of  the 
most  unsophisticated  members  of  '69  and  smoke 
them  out.  In  one  or  two  cases  they  met  with 
a  good  degree  of  success,  but  in  at  least  one 
instance  they  caught  a  Tartar.  The  victim 
whom  they  selected  evidently  enjoyed  their 
presence  and  their  tobacco  as  well.  After  they 
had  filled  the  room  so  full  of  smoke  that  one 
could  hardly  see  across  it,  he  coolly  produced  a 
pipe,  borrowed  some  of  their  tobacco,  and 
joined  them  in  a  smoke.  The  fun  lasted  until 
the  Sophomores  began  to  grow  white  around 
the  gills,  and  one  of  their  number  threw  up  his 
supper.  The  Freshman  afterwards  complained 
that  a  set  of  fellows  should  come  into  his  room 
for  the  purpose  of  smoking  themselves  sick  to 
the  detriment  of  his  new  carpet.  Though  this 
seemed  to  be  a  mighty  mean  way  to  receive  a 
new  man  into  the  college,  the  Sophomores  were 
willing  to  let  his  version  of  the  affair  stand. 

In  the  sixties  the  custom  prevailed  almost 
universally  among  young  men  to  wear  *'  plug  " 
hats.  The  Sophomore  class,  the  self-consti- 
tuted guardian  of  Freshmen  morals  and  manners, 
forbade  the  latter  class  to  indulge  in  such  orna- 


INCIDENTS  AND  ACCIDENTS  1 97 

mental  extravagance,  and  in  consequence  of  this 
prohibition  frequent  encounters  took  place  be- 
tween members  of  these  two  classes.  It  was 
seldom  that  any  blood  was  shed,  but  Freshmen's 
hats  were  destroyed  and  sometimes  heads  were 
bruised.  The  particular  occasion  of  which  I 
write  came  near  resulting  in  the  death  of  a 
member  of  the  Sophomore  class  and  was  only 
prevented  by  the  inefficiency  of  the  weapon 
carried  by  the  rebellious  Freshman. 

Mr.  R.  entered  the- Freshman  class,  coming 
from  Virginia,  and  bore  the  reputation  of  being 
as  hot-blooded  as  some  other  Virginians.  He 
wore  one  empty  sleeve.  Every  Sabbath  morn- 
ing he  persisted  in  wearing  a  high  hat,  but 
since  he  carefully  concealed  the  offensive  head- 
gear during  the  remaining  portion  of  the  week 
he  went  undisturbed  for  some  time.  One  Sab- 
bath morning  he  set  out  for  church  arrayed  as 
usual  and  soon  overtook  and  passed  a  member 
of  the  Sophomore  class,  Mr.  B.,  who  walked 
slowly  and  with  the  aid  of  a  cane.  It  seemed 
to  Mr.  B.  as  Mr.  R.  passed  that  he  bore  him- 
self in  an  especially  offensive  manner,  giving  a 
toss  of  his  head  which  resembled  a  challenge. 
At  any  rate  a  sudden  impulse  seized  the  Sopho- 


198  COLBY  STORIES 

more,  Avho  raised  his  cane  and  struck  the  hat  so 
sharp  a  blow  as  to  land  it  in  the  ditch.  He 
then  started  to  walk  off  as  if  nothing  had  oc- 
curred, but  hearing  the  click  of  a  revolver  he 
turned  about  and  finding  himself  uninjured 
trod  upon  the  Freshman's  hat  as  it  lay  upon 
the  ground,  and  completely  ruined  it.  At  this 
moment  he  heard  the  explosion  of  the  revolver 
and  felt  the  lead  strike  him  in  the  back  of  the 
head.  Turning  suddenly,  he  rushed  upon  the 
offending  Freshman,  receiving  another  shot 
which  just  grazed  his  breast.  He  then  severely 
caned  Mr.  R.  and  probably  would  have  spoiled 
his  countenance  but  for  the  presence  of  other 
students  who  interfered  to  separate  them. 

This  occurred  on  College  street,  not  far  below 
South  College.  Professor  Blank  then  occupied 
the  house  nearly  opposite  the  spot  where  that 
encounter  took  place.  He  was  evidently  mak- 
ing his  toilet  preparatory  to  going  to  church, 
but  hearing  the  shouts  he  looked  from  his  win- 
dow and  saw  what  was  causing  the  commotion. 
He  rushed  upon  the  scene  with  one  side  of  his  face 
clean  shaved  and  the  other  covered  with  lather. 
The  students  ran  from  all  directions,  some  dressed 
for  church  and  others  decidedly  undressed. 


INCIDENTS  AND  ACCIDENTS  1 99 

It  remains  to  be  said,  simply,  that  the  next 
morning  both  were  summarily  expelled. 

In  the  way  of  practical  jokes  one  member  of 
'68  was  often  the  victim.  The  man  in  question 
was  ratber  too  confiding  and  too  much  of  a 
temptation  at  times  to  some  of  his  fellows.  One 
haying  season  he  hired  out  with  a  neighboring 
farmer  for  a  week  or  two,  in  order  to  add  a  few 
dollars  to  his  depleted  treasury.  He  began  his 
labors  one  extremely  hot  day  by  swinging  a 
scythe  through  a  piece  of  stout  timothy.  The 
unaccustomed  physical  exertion  under  a  boiling 
July  sun  produced  an  unusual  degree  of  thirst. 
This  he  undertook  to  quench  by  frequent 
draughts  from  the  jug  of  cold  well  water.  One 
result  of  this  was  a  large-sized  pain  under  the 
waistband  of  his  trousers.  By  the  advice  of  his 
employer  he  was  induced  to  take  a  little  whiskey 
"  for  his  stomach's  sake,  and  his  often  infirmi- 
ties." The  effect  was  so  salutary  that  the  dose 
was  repeated  with  greater  frequency  than  was 
becoming  in  a  member  in  good  and  regular 
standing  in  both  the  Baptist  church  and  the 
Sons  of  Temperance. 

To  all  who  knew  D.  and  his  loyalty  to  prin- 
ciple it  was  apparent  that  the  whiskey  was  taken 


200  COLBY  STORIES 

solely  as  a  medicine,  but  his  employer  was  a 
young  man  who  loved  a  joke  and  could  not  re- 
frain from  making  capital  of  the  exhilarated 
condition  of  his  student  haymaker.  The  report 
that  D.  had  been  indulging  in  deep  potations 
from  the  flowing  bowl  was  soon  circulating  freely 
over  the  campus.  It  came  to  the  ears  of  the 
officials  in  the  church  and  to  the  brethren  in  the 
temperance  society.  Formal  charges  were  filed 
and  investigations  were  begun.  The  college 
faculty  also  summoned  the  offender  before  their 
august  body.  On  the  whole  the  poor  fellow 
began  to  look  upon  himself  as  a  blackened  sin- 
ner, when  his  classmates  came  to  his  rescue  with 
such  a  version  of  the  affair  as  resulted  in  his 
acquittal  by  each  of  the  tribunals  before  whom 
he  had  been  summoned.  It  was  currently  re- 
ported, however,  that  the  verdict  was  copied 
after  the  somewhat  famous  one  ascribed  to  a 
Scottish  court:  **  Not  guilty,  but  do  n't  do  it 
again." 

This  same  unfortunate  individual  bore  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  the  only  man  in  the  class  who 
wore  store  teeth.  It  was  his  custom  each  night 
to  remove  them  from  his  mouth  and  leave  them 
till  morning  in  a  tumbler  of  water.     One  morn- 


INCIDENTS  AND  ACCIDENTS  20I 

ing  he  was  very  much  disturbed  by  the  discov- 
ery that  his  teeth  had  disappeared  while  he  slept. 
Unless  he  could  recoverthem  without  delay,  his 
diet  until  a  new  set  could  be  obtained  must  con- 
sist mainly  of  liquid  food.  Furthermore  his 
personal  beauty  was  marred  by  their  absence 
and  his  articulation  seriously  and  unfavorably 
affected.  The  latter  difficulty  was  of  especial 
moment  since  his  class  exhibition  was  to  occur 
the  following  evening.  It  was  the  Junior  Exhi- 
bition of  original  articles,  and  according  to  the 
custom  of  those  days  every  man  in  the  class 
was  down  for  a  part  on  the  program. 

Now  D.  was  not  a  remarkably  good  writer 
and  rather  an  ordinary  speaker.  The  class  as  a 
whole  averaged  very  well  in  both  the  above 
particulars,  and  some  of  the  '69  boys  were 
wicked  enough  to  insinuate  that  D.'s  own  class- 
mates had  stolen  the  teeth  in  order  to  prevent 
his  appearance  on  the  stage,  and  advised  him  to 
get  even  with  the  perpetrators  of  the  outrage  by 
exhibiting  himself  in  his  toothless  condition. 
This  they  argued  would  be  the  cause  of  chagrin 
to  the  guilty  offenders.  The  '68  men  charged 
'69  with  having  planned  and  executed  the  rob- 
bery for  the  express  purpose  of  introducing  a 


202  COLBY  STORIES 

new  feature  into  '68's  exhibition.  For  a  few 
hours  the  poor  man  was  so  besieged  that  he 
scarcely  knew  whether  he  had  any  friends  or  not. 
But  he  finally  decided  that  '69  was  trying  to 
play  one  of  their  mean  games  upon  him  and  he 
declined  to  go  upon  the  stage. 

The  following  morning  the  teeth  returned 
to  their  accustomed  bath  as  the  venerable  old 
Doctor,  who  then  presided  over  the  destinies  of 
the  college,  had  smilingly  prophesied  that  they 
would. 


RARE    "BEN"   BUTLER 


BEN  BUTLER   IN  COLLEGE 

The  death  of  Benjamin  Franklin  Butler  a  few 
years  ago  removed  from  the  stage  one  of  the 
most  unique  and  bizarre  figures  in  American 
public  life.  A  more  singular  type  of  character 
is  seldom  seen  even  in  this  land  of  originals, 
New  England.  "Rare  old  Ben"  he  might  have 
been  rightly  called,  for  though  he  had  neither 
the  learning,  nor  the  ''  mountain  stomach  and 
rocky  face,"  of  the  bricklayer,  soldier,  actor, 
duellist,  and  dramatist,  Ben  Jonson,  yet  he  was, 
like  him,  massive  and  unshapely  in  body,  and 
had  a  similar  strong,  crabbed  sense,  acute  ob- 
servation, retentive  memory,  and,  above  all, 
pugnacity. 

**Ben,"  as  he  was  always  called,  except  when 
he  was  spoken  of  as  a  military  man,  was  born 
in  the  rocky  town  of  Deerfield,  New  Hampshire, 
on  Nov.  5,  1 818.  His  paternal  grandfather 
fought  at  Quebec,  and  also  during  the  Revolu- 
tionary  War,  and    his   father   at  New  Orleans 


2o6  COLBY  STORIES 

under  General  Jackson.  Bulky  as  he  became 
in  middle  life,  Ben  was  a  mere  '*  dagger  of 
lath  " — a  spare,  spiritualized  being,  who  could 
distinctly  feel  and  reckon  his  own  ribs — when 
he  entered  Waterville  (now  Colby)  College  in 
1834.  At  graduation  he  weighed  but  ninety- 
eight  pounds.  He  had  wished  to  be  educated 
at  West  Point,  but  his  widowed  mother,  a  de- 
vout Baptist,  desired  that  he  should  be  a 
clergyman.  Had  her  desire  been  gratified,  he 
would  probably  have  become  a  kind  of  theo- 
logical prize-fighter,  an  ecclesiastical  Heenan 
or  Sullivan,  who  would  have 

*'  Proved  his  doctrine  orthodox 
By  apostolic  blows  and  knocks," 

after  the  style  of  that  prince  of  bullies  and 
champion  of  paradoxical  opinions,  William 
Warburton. 

As  Ben  entered  college  a  year  before  I  left 
it,  when  the  number  of  students  was  not  over  a 
hundred,  I  knew  him  well.  Never  was  a  youth 
more  emphatically  the  father  of  the  man.  The 
same  daring,  fearless,  inquisitive  disposition, 
the  same  pugnacity  and  fondness  for  contro- 
versy, the  same  love  of  creating  a  sensation 
and    focussing    all  eyes  on    himself,  the    same 


BEN  BUTLER   IN  COLLEGE  207 

readiness  in  espousing,  and  dexterity  in  advo- 
cating, the  wrong  or  unpopular  side  of  a  ques- 
tion, characterized  him  then  as  in  his  riper 
Hfe.  Into  the  debates  of  ''The  Literary  Fra- 
ternity," the  college  society  of  which  he  was  a 
very  active  and  conspicuous  member,  he  was 
continually  introducing  novel  or  out-of-the-way 
topics  or  questions,  and  surprising  his  asso- 
ciates by  the  subtlety  and  ingenuity  with  which 
he  maintained  the  most  palpable  paradoxes. 
One  of  these  topics,  \*  remember,  was  ''  Mes- 
mer  and  his  Claims,"  which  Ben  championed 
a  Voiitrance. 

Among  the  college  rules  in  those  days  was 
one  requiring  from  the  students  attendance  on 
Sundays  on  public  worship.  On  a  certain 
Lord's  Day  one  of  the  college  professors 
preached  in  the  Baptist  church  (where  the 
faculty  and  students  worshiped)  a  sermon 
maintaining  that  only  the  elect  would  be  saved 
in  the  world  to  come ;  that  probably  this  num- 
ber would  not  comprise  more  than  one  in  a 
hundred  persons  professing  to  be  Christians, 
and  that  even  the  heathen  would  be  adjudged 
less  guilty  than  men  in  Christian  lands  who 
had  sat  under  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  and 


2o8  COLBY  STORIES 

yet  had  not  obeyed  its  injunctions.  As  Ben 
listened  to  these  startHng  statements,  a  feHcit- 
ous  use  of  them  flashed  on  his  mind,  and  next 
day  he  sent  to  the  college  faculty  a  petition 
that  he  might  be  excused  thenceforth  from 
attendance  on  public  worship.  He  urged  that 
the  village  church  had  some  six  hundred  wor- 
shipers, nine  of  whom  were  his  revered  presi- 
dent, professors,  and  tutors.  If  only  one  in  a 
hundred  of  these  worshipers  could  be  saved, 
was  it  not  absolutely  certain  that  three  members 
even  of  the  college  faculty  would  be  damned  ? 
Could  he  himself,  then,  a  humble  student,  and 
inclined  to  laxity  in  his  morals,  hope  by  any 
possibility  to  be  saved?  Worse  than  that, 
would  not  his  guilt  and  condemnation  be 
aggravated  by  every  church  service  he  at- 
tended? He  prayed,  therefore,  most  earnestly, 
to  be  excused  altogether  from  attendance. 
This  characteristic  paper,  replete  with  mock 
gravity,  was  elaborated  and  copied  with  great 
care ;  but  the  only  reply  to  it  was  a  summons 
to  its  precocious  author  to  stand  up  in  chapel 
and  be  reprimanded  before  the  faculty  and  stu- 
dents for  irreverence. 

When   in  his   Senior  year  Butler's  class  was 


BEN  BUTLER  IN  COLLEGE  209 

studying  the  "Evidences  of  Christianity"  under 
the  leadership  of  President  Pattison,  that  theo- 
logian was  greatly  surprised  by  the  acuteness, 
skill  in  logical  fence,  and  learning  exhibited  in 
Ben's  skeptical  objections  and  questions.  Con- 
vinced, at  last,  that  these  could  never  have 
originated  in  a  brain  so  immature  as  his  pupil's, 
the  president  sent  for  Butler's  "  chum,"  and, 
expressing  his  suspicions,  asked  confidentially 
whether  Ben  was  not  cribbing  his  arguments 
from  some  infidel  book.  The  answer  verified 
the  inquirer's  suspicions ;  whereupon  the  presi- 
dent incontinently  took  the  first  stage-coach  for 
Boston  (a  three  days'  journey  then),  bought  at 
Burnham's  ''Antique  Bokestore"  a  copy  of  the 
book  which  was  his  pupil's  secret  arsenal,  viz., 
Taylor's  "Diegesis  of  the  New  Testament," 
studied  it  all  the  way  home  in  the  stage-coach, 
and  after  a  week's  absence  reappeared  in  the 
class-room,  where  he  anticipated  all  of  Ben's 
shrewd  questions  and  objections,  and  replied  to 
them  triumphantly  as  soon  as  they  were  stated. 
These  facts  I  have  narrated,  not  from  hearsay, 
but  as  they  were  communicated  to  me  some 
twenty  years  after  their  occurrence  by  Presi- 
dent Pattison  himself. 
15 


2  TO  COLBY  STORIES 

Of  Ben's  less  intellectual  escapades  in  college 
— which  I  think  were  very  few — I  know  of  only 
one.  Once,  during  his  undergraduate  days, 
the  tongue  of  the  college  bell  disappeared,  and 
its  dread  summons  to  the  pillow-hugging  stu- 
dent was  not  heard  for  a  week.  Some  fifteen 
years  afterward,  Ben's  college  room-mate,  whom 
I  found  keeping  a  drug  store  in  Springfield, 
Mass.,  told  me  that  the  rogue  had  shown  it  to 
him  one  day,  while  every  hiding  place  but  the 
right  one  was  searched,  hidden  under  a  huge 
boulder  on  the  shore  of  the  Kennebec  river, 
which  bounds  the  college  campus  on  the  east. 


BEN  BUTLER   AND    THE   SIGN 
A  Farce — In  Two  Acts 

Scene  : — Waterville,   Maine. 

Characters  : 

Ben  Butler,  student  at  Waterville  College;  time,  1838. 

Senior,  >  Friends  of  Mr.  Bluecoat,  >  Police- 

Junior,  S     Butler;  Mr.  Burleigh,  \   men. 

Act  the  First 

Scene   I. — Main   street;    sidewalk   in   front   of    Rice\s 
Grocery  Store. 

\_Enter  Ben  Butler  and  two  Jr tends. ^ 

Ben  {looking  at  new  sign  before  the  store 
entrance^. — Great  Jehoshaphat !  boys,  just  feast 
your  eyes  on  yonder  sign.  Say,  I  admire  old 
Rice's  enterprise,  but  must  say  I  deplore  his 
lack  of  good  judgment  in  putting  so  much 
money  into  a  business  card. 

Senior. — By  the  way,  it  occurs  to  me  that 
that  sign  would  look  mighty  well  in  my  room. 


212  COLBY  STORIES 

I  have  just  space  for  it  over  my  copy  of  the 
Constitution. 

junior. — Sorry  to  disappoint  you,  but  the 
fact  of  the  matter  is,  the  next  function  of  that 
sign  shall  be  to  adorn  the  wall  of  my  own  domi- 
cile. I  can  see  it  now  preaching  the  doctrine 
of  '*  Honesty  the  best  policy,"  hanging  serenely 
between  two  charming  portraits  of  Jenny  Lind 
and  Thomas  Jefferson. 

Ben. — Now,  my  dear,  devoted  friend,  it  is 
your  imagination  that  paints  that  picture  and 
when  you  have  seen  another  year  of  college 
you  will  know  that  imagination,  though  a  fas- 
cinating painter,  is  not  a  reliable  one.  And 
you,  my  sympathetic  Senior,  may  as  well  hope 
to  own  Fort  Halifax  as  to  ever  possess  old 
Rice's  sign ;  for  the  very  Constitution  of  which 
you  speak  forms  a  basis  for  laws  which  are 
very  explicit  in  dealing  with  ownership  of  un- 
claimed property.  Now,  I  was  the  first  to 
spy  yonder  sign,  and  if  you  would  know  some- 
thing of  the  future  which  awaits  it,  listen  !  To- 
night, when  friend  Rice  has  counted  his  day's 
receipts  and  hied  him  homeward,  when  shadows 
guard  the  streets  and  all  Ticonic  sleeps,  a 
stealthy  form  will  glide  softly  up  to  this  very 


BEN  BUTLER  AND    THE  SIGN  2I3 

Spot,  and  as  stealthily  return  to  the  place 
whence  it  came,  and  the  wisest  of  the  night 
owls  will  wing  back  to  their  silent  thickets 
and  say  to  one  another  that  Benjamin  Franklin 
Butler  has  added  one  more  sign  to  his  already 
copious  collection. 

Senior. — Your  language  reminds  me  of  that 
used  in  your  late  petition  to  the  faculty, 
asking  to  be  excused  from  attendance  at 
prayers. 

Junior. — Yes,  and  if  Ben  can  gain  posses- 
sion of  the  sign  as  easily  as  he  demonstrated  to 
the  faculty  that  their  Calvinistic  notions  are 
behind  the  times  for  an  up-to-date  theolog  like 
himself,  I  shall  yield  my  claim  to  the  much 
wanted  placard  at  once. 

Senior, — And  I  gladly  acquiesce, — but  say, 
let's  run  down  to  the  river  for  a  swim. 

Ben. — Wait  a  minute;  do  you  know  you 
should  never  go  into  the  water  after  supper ! 

Senior  and  ytmior  (/;/  chorus). — Why  not? 

Ben. — Well,  you  won't  probably  find  it 
there,  that's  all. 

{^Exeunt  all.~\ 

\_Snter  merchant  and  zuhistles  to  policeman 
across  the  street. '\ 


214  COLBY  STORIES 

\_E71ter  ■policeman^  Mr.  Bluecoat.'] 

Bluecoat. — Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Rice. 

Rice. — Well,  it  comes  pretty  blamed  near 
being  anything  but  a  good  afternoon  for  me, 
that's  what  it  does. 

Bhtecoat. — Burglars  blown  your  till,  or 
something  wrong  in  politics? 

Rice. — Neither  one.  You  see  it's  this  way. 
Sales  have  been  good  for  the  last  fortnight, 
they  have,  and  I  said  to  myself,  said  I,  I  ought 
to  be  willing  to  put  a  little  portion  of  my 
profits  into  a  brand  new  sign,  one  that'll  beat 
anything  on  the  street.  And  so  I  had  one 
painted,  I  did ;  not  very  large,  but  mighty 
pretty  and  mighty  showy,  and  now  to  have  to 
lose  it,  it  comes  mighty  hard,  it  does. 

Bluecoat. — It  seems  to  me  your  sign  is  still 
hanging  safe  and  sound. 

Rice. — Yes,  yes,  it's  hanging  sound  enough, 
and  that's  the  reason  it  is  n't  safe.  You  see, 
the  carpenter  who  put  it  up  put  it  up  to  stay; 
so  you  see  I  can't  take  it  inside  over  night. 

Bluecoat. — So  you  mean  to  say  your  sign 
is  n't  safe  outdoors  in  the  night.  Surely,  you 
do  n't  expect  the  frosts  to  affect  those  delicately 
colored  letters. 


BEN  BUTLER  AND    THE  SIGN  215 

Rice. — No,  but  some  young  chaps  just 
passed  along  here  and  stopped  to  view  the 
painting,  they  did,  and  if  I  ain't  mistaken  there 
was  mischief  in  their  eyes.  And  it  came  over 
me  all  at  once,  it  did,  that  my  sign  was  too 
attractive.  I  reckon  some  way  or  other  that 
my  sign  is  as  good  as  stolen,  unless  I  hire  a 
man  to  watch  it. 

Bhiecoat. — Ah  !  a  bright  thought  strikes  me. 
There  have  been  numerous  complaints  made 
lately  by  merchants  who  have  lost  signs,  and 
several  clues  have  led  us  to  suspect  students 
up  at  the  college.  But  we  have  never  been  able 
to  catch  any  one  at  the  act.  Now,  Mr.  Rice, 
with  your  permission,  I  will  come  down  and 
conceal  myself  inside  your  store  this  evening 
and  watch  your  sign.  Perhaps  something  will 
develop.  Will  you  give  your  permission,  Mr. 
Rice? 

Rice. — ^Yes,  siree.  You  have  not  only  my 
permission  but  my  prayers  also.  I  shall 
depend  upon  you  to  be  on  hand  to-night  when  I 
lock  up,  I  shall. 

\^Foiir  hours  later  Mr.  Bhiecoat  enters  and 
goes  within  store,  Mr.  Rice  locks  store. 
Exit  Mr .  Rice .  ] 


2l6  COLBY  STORIES 

[  Thi'ee  hours  later ^  enter  Ben  Butler 
softly. ~\ 

\_JLooks  inside  store  and  sees  Bluecoat  sit- 
ting in  chair  aslcep.'\  Aha!  Mr.  Policeman, 
excuse  me  if  I  turn  my  back  on  you.  [^Pro- 
duces a  screwdriver  from  his  -pocket  and 
begins  work  on  sign.^  You  see,  I  am  not 
absolutely  sure  whether  you  are  asleep  or  not. 
If  you  are  not,  then  I  don't  care  for  you  to  see 
my  face ;  if  you  are,  why,  you  might  wake  up, 
so  I  will  work  quickly.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  sup- 
pose I  would  run  away  if  you  said  so.  Any- 
way,— I  am  merely  waiting  for  a  sign.  [Re- 
moves last  screzv  and  takes  down  sign.  Turns 
and  faces  wiudozv  just  as  -policeman  awakes 
and  looks  up.     Exit  Ben  with  sign.'\ 

[Bluecoat  fumbles  at  key-hole  for  some 
time  but  fnally  opens  door  and  hastily  glances 
up  the  strcet.~\  Confound  the  plaguy  lock! 
I've  lost  thief,  sign,  and  all.  But  I  recognized 
you,  you  rascal,  and  I'll  get  satisfaction  to-mor- 
row.    Ben  Butler,  your  goose  is  cooked  ! 

[Ciirtai7i.'\ 


BEN  BUTLER  AND    THE  SIGN  217 

ACT    II 

Room  18,  Chaplain  Hall,  Waterville  College. 

[Rather  meagerly  furnished  room  ;  open  fireplace  on 
one  side ;  on  wall  are  several  signs  with  such  inscriptions 
as  "  Royal  Baking  Powder,"  "  Sanford's  Ginger,"  "Dress- 
making," ♦«  Keep  Off,"  etc.  A  mouse  sits  quietly  on  the 
table  crunching  a  leaf  from  Milton's  "  Paradise  Lost." 
Steps  are  heard  outside  ;  mouse  slips  into  a  hole  in  the 
corner.] 

\_JEnter  Ben  Butler^  Senio?'^  and  'Junior. '\ 

Senior. — And  so  you  will  not  yield  on  the 
flag  question? 

Ben. — Never  !  Merely  because  the  Whigs 
have  succeeded  in  barely  electing  a  governor, 
every  Whig  in  college  thinks  he  must  make 
himself  out  a  fool  by  shouting  and  frantically 
waving  his  arms  like  a  maniac.  If  the  college 
Whigs  represented  sufficient  money,  it  might 
be  well  for  them  to  purchase  an  automatic 
dummy  which  might  be  made  to  keep  its  hat  in 
the  air  all  the  time.  Thus  they  might  have  a 
sort  of  continual  celebration  without  any  espe- 
cial effort  on  their  own  part.  I  have  noticed 
that  a  Whig  is  happiest  when  doing  nothing 
and  talking  much. 

yunior. — But  the  flags  were  private — 


2l8  COLBY  S7VRIES 

Ben. — Oh,  bosh  !  Private  nothing.  I  did  n't 
approve  of  the  flags  being  flown  for  such  a  pur- 
pose, so  I  hauled  them  down ;  being  sighted 
and  pursued  by  the  Whig  Vigilance  Committee, 
I  ran  to  the  river  bank,  swam  the  Kennebec, 
leaving  my  political  ill-wishers  on  this  side. 
Once  across,  all  was  well.  The  precious  ban- 
ners are  in  a  good  place,  safe  from  hostile 
hands,  and  they  will  never  help  to  celebrate  a 
Whig  victory  by  floating  over  the  campus  of 
any  college  where  I  am  a  student.  Just  paste 
that  in  your  hat,  and  you  will  be  able  to  give 
at  least  one  good  point  to  any  inquiring  Whig 
you  may  chance  to  meet. 

Senior. — Great  Scott !  Ben,  you  are  getting 
to  be  a  hotter  Democrat  than  Andrew  Jackson 
himself.  I  suppose  you  will  keep  the  flags  to 
decorate  your  desk  when  you  get  appointed 
justice  of  the  peace  in  some  one-horse  hamlet? 

Ben. — No.  Whenever  the  great  and  glorious 
faculty  shall  see  fit  to  set  me  free,  I  shall — 

Jimioi'  (^looking  out  window^. — Hook  it! 
boys.  Here  come  two  police  up  the  walk ;  I 
wonder  what  I  have  done  ! 

Ben  (^jiiniflngfro7n  his  seat). — Well,  I'll 
tell  you  what  you  've  done ;   you  've  got  me  to 


BEN  BUTLER  AND    THE  SIGN  1\^ 

talking  politics  till  I  Ve  neglpcted  proper  pre- 
cautions for  my  much  cherished  sign.  I  have  a 
feeling  that  these  knights  of  the  law  have  de- 
signs upon  No.  i8.      {Locking  the  door.) 

Senior. — What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

Ben. — Keep  quiet,  and  see  if  the  new-comers 
intend  to  disturb  the  quiet  of  our  private  parlor. 
\^A  knock  outside.  J^iietncss  reigns  within. 
Ben  and  Senior  converse  in  whispers.'] 

Ben. — Very  polite,  to  say  the  least. 

\_Another  knock.] 

Ben. — No  use,  my  friend,  nobody  at  home. 
\_Still  another  rap.] 

Ben. — ''Anon,  anon  !  I  pray  you,  remember 
the  porter ! 

Bluecoat  {outside). — Open  up,  Butler;  I 
have  to  see  you. 

Senior. — Remember,  Ben,  he  is  an  officer  of 
the  law. 

Ben. — Oh,  I  do  n't  question  his  authority, 
but  have  some  doubt  about  his  jurisdiction. 

Bluecoat  {outside). — This  has  gone  far 
enough.     Open  the  door,  or  we  will  break  it  in. 

Ben. — Gee  !   the  plot  thickens. 

Senior. — You  know  Ticonderoga  fell ! 


220  COLBY  STORIES 

Ben. — This  is  no  history  exam. ;  rather,  a 
strategy  conference. 

Senior. — I  was  just  wondering  whether  there 
might  not  be  some  analogy  between  Ticon- 
deroga  and  your  door,  but — 

Bluecoat  (^outside). — Ten  seconds  more,  and 
we  come  through  ! 

Ben — Boys,  a  great  idea !  Put  those  signs 
on  the  fire,  and  be  quick. 

\_The    boys  obey    quietly    and   quickly,     Ben 
commences  to  pray. '\ 

O  Lord,  we  are  thankful  for  these  past  few 
minutes  of  silent  prayer.  Inspiring  and  helpful 
indeed  are  the  cool,  calm,  thoughtful  moments 
thus  spent  in  silent  communion  with  a  Power 
whose  dictates  transcend  all  earthly  commands. 

Bluecoat  {listening  outside). — Great  guns! 
they  are  holding  a  prayer-meeting.  The  law  is 
on  our  own  shoulders  if  we  make  any  distur- 
bance. 

Ben  {continuing). — We  are  thankful  that 
we  are  privileged  to  become  educated  in  a 
country  of  free  thought;  we  are  thankful  that 
our  college  is  one  where  we  may  hold  religious 
services  at  all  times  and  in  all  places ;   and  wilt 


BEN  BUTLER  AND    THE  SIGN  221 

thou  give  long  life  to  that  inspiring  and  benefi- 
cent law  which  provides  that  lowly,  humble 
students  be  left  free,  undisturbed,  and  unmo- 
lested to  carry  on  their  devotional  services  in 
such  manner  as  to  be  most  conducive  to  their 
physical  as  well  as  to  their  spiritual  welfare. 
(/«  whispe?'.)  I  say,  boys,  can't  you  make 
that  fire  burn  faster?  (^Boys  add  kindling; 
signs  blaze  up  briskly.  Ben  takes  courage 
and  continues.)  VVe  are  thankful  that  we 
know  how  to  pray  not  only  importunely  but 
opportunely ;  that  we  know  not  only  what  to 
pray  for  but  when  to  pray.  (///  whisper.)  Great 
blazes !  punch  up  that  fire ;  I  can 't  pray  all 
night.  (Contifiuing.)  We  are  thankful  for 
this  glorious  country  in  which  we  live ; 
wilt  thou  be  with  those  who  govern  it;  wilt 
thou  be  with  those  in  charge  of  our  state  and 
our  county  and  our  own  beloved  town;  bless 
our  town  officers  and  give  them  strength ;  bless 
the  noble  and  courageous  men  on  our  police 
force ;  give  them  the  fullest  possible  measure  of 
success  consistent  with  their  ability.  {In  zvhis- 
per.)  Burn  those  splinters  and  scatter  the 
ashes  a  bit.  {Continuing.)  Wilt  thou  bring 
success  to  our  merchants ;     especially    to    our 


222  COLBY  STORIES 

grocers,  whose  interests  are  so  closely  identified 
with  our  own  living;  may  they  not  be  over- 
confident of  wealth  nor  mistake  increase  of  bus- 
iness for  a  sign  of  prosperity,  for  the  sign  may 
turn  out  one  of  adversity. 

Senior  (in  whisper). — There,  the  signs  are 
burned ;  now  cut  it  short,  lest  our  prayer-meet- 
ing lose  its  charm. 

Ben  {continuing) . — O  Lord,  in  these  days 
of  exactness  and  unequivocation  there  are  those 
who  would  misinterpret  our  motives  and  deeds 
and  pounce  upon  us  on  the  slightest  provoca- 
tion. Teach  us  to  apply  the  scriptures  to  this 
new  condition  and  to  say  to  them,  "Depart 
thence,  thou  wicked  and  perverse  generation ; 
ye  who  seek  for  a  sign,  but  no  sign  shall  be 
given  you."  We  ask  and  offer  all  this  in  the 
light  of  the  fact  that  our  doubts  and  fears  have 
been  subjected  to  the  fire  that  consumeth  full 
fast  and  well,  and  that  in  the  ashes  of  the 
conflagration  we  see  the  peace  and  joy  that 
becometh  honest  men.      Amen. 

\_Pause  of  few  minutes^  then  light  knock  is 
heard  at  the  door.'] 

Ben. — Come  in.    (  Unlocks  and  of  ens  door.) 

\_Enter  Bliiecoat  and  Burleigh.] 


BEN  BUTLER  AND    THE  SIGN  223 

Bluecoat. — Mr.  Butler,  you  are  charged  with 
the  larceny  of  a  sign,  and  I  have  here  a  war- 
rant to  search  your  room. 

Be7i. — Well,  I  '11  warrant  you  do  n't  search  a 
great  deal  until  I  see  the  complexion  of  your 
document. 

Bluecoat  (^  producing  warrant^ . — Be  quick  ! 
my  time  is  precious. 

Ben. — I  see;  that's  characteristic  of  your 
profession.  {Reads  document  very  deliber- 
ately). Well,  that  has  a  certain  semblance  of 
authority ;  I  guess  if  you  proceed  to  examine 
my  effects,  there  won't  be  any  serious  draw- 
backs. But,  say,  if  you  happen  to  run  across 
that  sign,  do  n't  forget  to  call  my  attention  to 
it;   I  am  curious  to  know  how  it  looks. 

\_Senior  and  yuntor  exeunt,  smiling  com- 
■prehensively.  Police  begin  search^  with  ex- 
clamations of  mingled  anger  and  contempt. 
Ten  minutes  later  they  stop  work^  with  labors 
unrewarded.^ 

Bluecoat. — I  am  forced  to  say,  Mr.  Butler, 
that  a  careful  search  of  your  room  ha's  failed  to 
bring  to  light  the  stolen  article.  Courtesy  de- 
mands us,  as  public  officers,  to  express  our  re- 
grets at  having  to  cause    you    undue    trouble. 


224  COLBY  STORIES 

Good  day !  \_Exeunt^  thinking  that  they 
would  rather  lose  their  -positions  than  siifer 
again  the  hufuiliation  of  being  outwitted  by  a 
college  boy.  As  they  disappear  down  the 
walk^  Ben  seats  himself  at  the  table  to  pre- 
pare a  theme  on  The  Probable  Effect  on  the 
Eighteenth  Century  had  Ccesar  never  crossed 
the  Rubicon. '\ 


THE  BROKEN  ENGAGEMENT 

Ben  Butler  lay  back  in  his  easy  chair  and 
watched  the  cloud  of  blue  smoke  circle  up  to 
the  ceiling.  He  was  thinking,  and  thinking  seri- 
ously. 

"Oh,  mighty!"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  "what 
a  fool  a  cultivated  fool  is !  Yes,  come  in."  A 
hard  knock  sounded  on  his  door. 

At  the  summons  from  within,  a  round-faced, 
happy-go-lucky  fellow,  twenty  years  of  age  or 
upwards,  kicked  open  the  door  and  swaggered 
in. 

"  Well, — "  he  looked  over  at  Ben  who  stood 
gazing  out  the  window,  apparently  unmindful 
that  he  had  summoned  in  a  "  chum  in  North." 

"  Well,  I  say,  why  do  n't  you  say  how  d'ye 
do  to  a  gentleman?" 

"  Just  show  me  one."  retorted  Ben,  then  con- 
tinued, "  sit  down,  man,  sit  down.  Jim  tell  you 
to  happen  around?  ' 

**  Sure,"  rejoined  Jordan,  surveying  the  room 
i6 


226  COLBY  S TORIES 

and  its  occupant  critically.  '*  Now  what  the  old 
boy  is  up?      In  the  toils  again,  eh?" 

"  Now  I  '11  tell  you,"  began  Ben,  **  I  'm  in 
about  the  worst  fix  a  man  can  be  in  and  still 
continue  to  keep  his  identity.  Now  that  I  'm 
in  I  want  to  get  out.  That's  all  natural  enough, 
isn't  it?  Well,  to  come  to  the  point;  in  order 
to  get  out  we  've  got  to  have  another  blowout. 
My  whole  life  depends  upon  it." 

*' A  blowout!"  exclaimed  Jordan  in  amaze- 
ment. ''Yes,  I  think  my  life  would  (fd?-pend 
upon  it  also.  Why,  are  you  crazy,  man?  Didn't 
we  have  one  last  week?  Didn't  I  blow  out  the 
last  cent  I  had?  Did  n't  we  both  agree  not  to 
have  another  until  the  end  of  this  term?" 

''El  Jordan,  remember  this,  we're  to  have  a 
time  to-morrow  night  in  this  room,  at  half-past 
seven ;  you  are  to  be  here,  likewise  Mark  and 
Jim  and  John."  The  unconquerable  Ben  brought 
his  fist  hard  down  upon  the  little  square  table 
before  him.  "But,"  he  continued  after  a  pause, 
"it  isn't  going  to  be  a  real  jovial  feast,  only  just 
fixed  up  for  the  occasion,  you  know." 

"  I  can  stand  all  the  blows  and  buffets  of  this 
world,"  rejoined  El,  "  but  I  can't  stand  guff. 
Imagine  yourself  having  an  unreal  drunk  !    Ah  ! 


THE  BROKEN  ENGAGEMENT  227 

my  friend,  there  's  too  much  reaHty  in  you  for 
that." 

"  I  ask  you  to  be  serious,  El.  Will  you?"  El 
lengthened  out  his  face,  rolled  his  eyes  about, 
crossed  his  arms,  in  all  the  dejectedness  of  an 
unsuccessful  suitor. 

"  You  can  take  this  as  a  joke  if  you  wish,  but 
if  you  ever  want  to  rid  yourself  of  a  girl,  you  '11 
readily  see  that  it  is  no  joke,  after  all." 

"  Whew-w-w,"  whistled  Jordan,  aroused  to 
the  true  situation.  "  So  you  've  really  tired  of 
Louisa?     Well!   well!   well!" 

"  Apparently.  Louisa  Green  is  Louisa  Green, 
or  was  the  last  day  I  saw  her.  Ben  Butler  is 
Ben  Butler,  no  matter  what  he  came  near  being. 
Her  dad  is  a  gritty  old  radicalist  and  I  doff  my 
hat  to  no  man  meaner.  I  could  ship  Louisa 
easy  enough,  engagement  or  no  engagement, 
but — "  Butler  was  not  a  man  to  be  blocked  ;  no 
fetters  could  shackle  him, — "  but  the  crabbed 
old  sculpin  dares  to  oppose  me."  He  paced 
the  room  for  a  moment,  growling  like  a  lion 
balked  of  his  prey.  El  watched  him  with  appar- 
ent interest,  for  this  was  one  of  the  times  when, 
as  Jordan  said,  "  Ben's  hair  rose  as  bristles,  and 
his  fingers  cracked  like  claws." 


228  COLBY  STORIES 

Ben  stopped  before  El's  chair,  and  smiling 
complacently,  said,  **  Never  yet  have  I  been 
caught  where  I  could  n't  extricate  myself.  My 
way  is  clear.     Bah!   old  sculpin  Green!" 

*'  Winds  change,"  suggested  Jordan.  '*A  few 
days  ago  you  were  standing  up  here  in  this  very 
room  crying  like  a  peanut-vender,  *  Behold  my 
future  father-in-law;  the  man  of  men  who  be- 
lieves in  no  tobacco,  no  rum  :  now  look  at  me  ! 
Gentlemen,  you  have  now  seen  the  two  poles  of 
'  this  earth  !  '  Now  it 's  another  song,  '  the  gritty 
old  radicalist,  the  crabbed  old  sculpin.'  Woe  ! 
woe  !     Verily  !   verily  !    Consistency  thou  art — " 

*'  Look  here,"  snapped  Ben,  ''  are  you  to  be 
in  my  room  to-morrow  night  at  half-past  seven 
to  join  in  freeing  me  from  thraldom?" 

"Nothing  to  drink,  eh?" 

*'  Your  face  not  welcome  here  now  will  be 
very  welcome  at  the  time  I  have  specified. 
That's  all  I  wanted,  so  out  with  you  !"  And 
El,  the  slave,  slipped  out  the  door  into  the  hall- 
way. 

Butler  heard  him  as  he  leaped  up  the  stairs 
to  his  room  sing  a  two-line  song  that  savored  of 
Jordan,  coupled  with  extempore  work. 

This  was  it: 


THE  BROKEN  ENGAGEMENT  12^ 

"  Oh,  Ben  Butler  of  the  tribe  of  Benjamin, 
Ye  cause  every  sucker  of  us  all  to  sin." 

Butler  laughed.  "'Truth  .  .  .  needs  no 
flowers  of  speech,'  "  he  flung  after  him. 

Ben  put  on  his  coat  and  gloves,  picked  up  his 
cane  from  the  corner,  and  presently  came  out  of 
his  room  and  stood  upon  the  steps  of  old  North 
College,  a  very  respectable  and  innocent  look- 
ing fellow  indeed.  He  stood  there  sometime, 
pounding  his  cane  against  the  walls  of  the  brick 
building,  looking  out  over  the  campus.  Two 
Sophs  strolled  past  and  saluted  him,  **  Going 
calling,  Ben?"  He  felt  a  bit  vexed  at  being 
interrupted.  **A  cane  and  gloves  prophesy  a 
call,  likely?"  he  answered  evasively.  The  Sophs 
laughed,  mumbled  something  Ben  could  not 
understand,  and  walked  on,  while  Ben  resumed 
his  whistling  where  he  had  left  off. 

The  lights  from  the  dormitory  windows  shone 
out  over  the  stretch  of  green.  The  small  elms 
and  maples  cast  their  shadows  on  the  tall  uncut 
grass  beneath  them.  Ben  sauntered  out  across 
the  lawn.  He  was  still  thinking,  this  time  aloud. 
"  If  I  go  call  on  her  to-night,  stay  long  enough 
to  invite  the  old  man  up  to  call  on  me  to-mor- 
row night,  then  get  the  boys  promptly  around 


230  COLBY  STORIES 

and  give  the  old  crab  a  scare  that  he  wont  soon 
forget,  he  '11  come  to  terms,  break  the  engage- 
ment, no  doubt  of  it,  then  I  '11 — use  judgment 
next  time.  Well,"  he  struck  the  cane  impa- 
tiently against  his  trouser  leg,  looked  back  at 
his  dark  room  in  the  corner  of  old  North  Col- 
lege, quickly  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  town, 
and,  as  he  sauntered  off  through  the  trees,  fin- 
ished a  broken  sentence, — '*  here  goes  !" 

Readers  who  can  recall  anything  of  the  life 
and  character  of  the  distinguished  Benjamin  F. 
Butler,  will  remember  him  as  a  man  of  indom- 
itable courage,  stubbornness,  and  dexterity. 
These  same  traits  that  so  characterized  him  in 
his  later  life  were  the  ruling  powers  of  his  col- 
lege days.  He  would  not  go  back,  right  or 
wrong. 

Enamoured  of  a  pretty  country  girl  he  had 
gained  the  consent  of  her  parents  and  had  be- 
come engaged.  Now  he  had  tired  of  her,  and 
cast  about  him  for  a  means  of  freeing  himself. 

Her  father  was  a  white-haired  old  fellow  of 
some  sixty  years,  a  radical  temperance  man,  a 
despiser  of  tobacco,  and  a  deadly  foe  to  any 
form  of  gambling.  It  goes  without  saying,  that 
in  order  to  win  the  affections  of  the  fair  daugh- 


THE   BROKEN  ENGAGEMENT  23 1 

ter,  especially  the  good  will  of  the  irritable  old 
man,  this  hasty  college  youth  had  been  playing 
a  shrewd  game.  So  well  had  he  succeeded, 
however,  that  the  father  had  come  to  look  upon 
him  as  a  model  youth,  far  above  the  pipe  that 
tempts  and  the  bowl  that  lures. 

It  was  six  o'clock  by  the  marble  timepiece 
that  ticked  loudly  on  Ben's  mantle,  when  Jim, 
Mark,  El,  and  John  pounded  vigorously  on  the 
door  and  were  admitted. 

The  interior  presented  an  appearance  quite 
in  contrast  with  the  generally  well  arranged  col- 
lege room.  The  big  oakwood  table  had  been 
dragged  into  the  centre  of  the  room  and  four 
straightbacked  chairs  circled  the  board.  At 
each  of  the  four  sides  a  tall  black  bottle  with 
glass  had  been  placed,  whilp  in  the  centre  of  the 
table  there  was  a  massive  tobacco  box  with  its 
contents  protruding  beneath  the  cover;  assorted 
pipes  were  strewn  over  the  table  surface ;  over 
in  one  corner  of  the  room  books,  hats,  papers, 
coats,  boxes,  and  what-not  were  piled ;  large 
colored  pictures  of  George  Washington  and 
other  notables  dangled  from  the  ceiling;  the 
right  hand  corner  of  the  room  near  the  smould- 
ering   open    fire    contained    pillows    and    bed- 


232  COLBY  STORIES 

spreads, — in  fact,  everything  within  that  room 
seemed  tipsy.  It  was  as  if  a  mighty  wind  had 
swept  through  the  feasting  den  of  the  devil  him- 
self. A  strange  smell  of  New  England  rum, 
musk,  and  tobacco  pervaded  the  atmosphere. 

The  boys  walked  about,  held  their  noses  and 
made  sport  of  one  another  in  their  vain  attempts 
to  fully  enjoy  the  situation.  Ben  was  still  mas- 
ter of  the  occasion.  He  suggested  changes 
here  and  there  that  would  add  a  new  appear- 
ance to  the  already  crazy  abode,  lighted  a  lamp 
that  threw  a  mournful  and  sickly  gleam  over 
this  newly  found  Hades,  then  peeked  out  the 
side  of  the  window-shade. 

"  Gee  !  boys.  '  Hail !  the  conquering  hero 
comes !  '  Now,  Ben  Butler,  play  well  your 
part !  "  So  saying  he  pulled  off  his  coat,  threw 
off  a  shoulder  strap,  laid  bare  his  bosom, 
dangled  his  collar  at  the  back  of  his  neck, 
kicked  one  shoe  into  the  corner,  just  as  a  cau- 
tious walk  sounded  on  the  stone  steps  outside. 
Ben  threw  himself  upon  the  pillows  and  prac- 
tised a  few  *'hics."  '' He-ic  !  he-ic  !  "  He 
sounded  about  perfection.  The  other  boys 
took  their  places  at  the  table  and  proceeded  to 
become  intensely  interested  in  a  card-game. 


THE  BROKEN  ENGAGEMENT  233 

A  footfall  sounded  softly  in  the  hallway; 
the  cane  rung  gratingly  on  the  dusty  wood 
floor;   then  another  footfall. 

A  pause.     Silence. 

Ben,  changed  his  position  that  he  might  get 
a  better  view  of  the  door, — and  thought  of 
Louisa  Green. 

Rap  !   tap  !   tap  ! 

The  curtain  had  arisen ;  the  program  was 
now  on. 

"  Hal-loo  !  "  thundered  Ben,  "■  who  's,  hic- 
er-hic  !   that  thic-there,  eh?  " 

"  Mr.  Joshua  N.  Green,  sir.  Is  Mr.  Benja- 
min F.  Butler  within?  " 

"  Guess,  hie  !  he  is,  all  right.  Josh,  he-ic  ! 
boys.  Josh'n  I,  boys,  he-ic  !  Let  him,  hie! 
in,  boys.     Josh,  come  in,  hie!  " 

Mark  turned  the  light  lower  and  opened  the 
door.  Clouds  of  blue  tobacco  smoke  swept 
through  the  door  and  into  the  face  of  the  old 
man.  Joshua  gasped  slightly,  and  put  his 
hand  to  his  eyes. 

"  Come  in,"  urged  Mark,  taking  him  cor- 
dially by  the  arm.  "  Ben  *s  inside  here  ;  wants 
to  see  you, — need  of  you." 

Then  Joshua  N.  Green  was  ushered  in. 


234  COLBY  STORIES 

The  lamp  wick  was  turned  slowly  up  by  Jim 
and  the  room  assumed  its  former  appearance 
of  tipsiness.  Ben  pulled  the  spread  closer 
about  his  face  and  pushed  his  head  further  into 
the  feather  pillow.  Joshua  stood  for  a  moment 
where  Mark  had  left  him,  gazing  strangely  from 
the  table  where  the  boys  were  busily  tossing 
cards  and  tipping  glasses,  to  the  couch  where 
the  pride  of  Louisa  hiccuped  at  proper  intervals 
and  murmured  lavish  greetings  upon  the  vis- 
itor ;  then  his  eyes  took  a  wild  survey  of  the 
entire  room,  at  the  pictures  which  dangled 
from  the  ceiling  above  him,  at  the  rubbish  cor- 
ner, at  the  table ;  at  last  his  two  drooping  eyes 
fell  upon  the  apparently  prostrate  form  of  Ben 
Butler. 

**  Be-sith-ed  !  "  ordered  Ben,  feebly  motioning 
Green  towards  a  chair  in  the  opposite  corner. 
*'  Be  sith-ed  !     I  'm  down,  hie  !   all  right.    Eh?  " 

The  old  man,  nonplussed,  dropped  weakly 
into  the  chair  that  one  of  the  boys  pushed 
towards  him.  There  he  sat,  his  mouth  closed 
tight,  one  hand  gripping  the  side  of  his  chair, 
the  other  grasping  firmly  his  cane  as  if  for  sup- 
port— and  gazed  straight  into  vacancy. 

-Ha!    Ha!    Hie!   Hie!    He-ic  !  !  Wake  up, 


THE  BROKEN  ENGAGEMENT  235 

Josh!  I  say.  What  d'  ye  see, — snakes?"  Ben 
clawed  the  air  wildly  for  a  moment,  and  yelled 
like  a  true  maniac,  "  Take  'em  away — hie ! 
Take  'em  away  !  urgh  !  "  Butler  quieted  him- 
self, then  continued,  "Give  'im  a  drink,  boys, 
hie !  Cocktail,  ginger-hie  !-root,  'n  pep'mint, 
you  know,  hie  !  Jus'  cheer  'im  up,  you  know, 
hie  !  Don'  be  bashful,  't  all."  Then  he  pointed 
to  the  pictures  on  the  ceiling,  "  My  'lustrious 
ancestors,  hie  !  Josh.     Bow  to  'em,  hie  !  " 

Mr.  Green  turned  his  eyes  slowly  towards  the 
speaker.  The  boys  at  the  table  had  been  very 
quiet  till  Ben  had  finished  and  the  role  had  had 
its  full  applause.  A  tragi-comedy  was  now  to 
be  enacted.  Butler  had  planned  to  have  the 
first  scene  convince  the  old  man  beyond  all  pos- 
sible doubt  that  Louisa's  suitor  was  actually 
drunk;  scene  the  second  was  intended  to 
frighten  the  old  fellow  out  and  home. 

Mark  rose  from  his  chair,  leaned  over  the 
table  towards  Jim  and  yelled  fiendishly,  "  Put 
that  card  down,  and  now  !  You  cheat !  You 
half-drunken  bubble  !      Put  it  down,  I  say  !  " 

"  Mind  your  own  affairs,  will  you?  "  returned 
Jim  angrily,  "  I  will  put  it  back  when  I  please, — 
not  before." 


236  COLBY  STORIES 

'' You  will,  will  you?  We'll  see."  So  speak- 
ing, he  made  a  wild  dive  for  the  cards  in  Jim's 
hand,  sprawling  the  length  of  the  table,  and 
knocking  every  glass,  bottle,  box,  and  card  into 
a  broken  heap  upon  the  floor.  Jim  rose  as 
quickly  and  knocked  Mark  upon  Jordan,  who, 
thereupon  awake  to  the  situation,  proceeded  to 
do  up  Mark  and  John. 

For  a  few  minutes  pandemonium  reigned 
supreme.  Every  article  in  the  room  was  tipped 
over,  and  Ben  was  dragged  from  his  couch  out 
into  the  arena  where  the  boys  held  a  typical 
Irish  wake-feast. 

Ben  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  old  man.  As 
the  quarrel  began  the  old  fellow  shifted  positions 
slightly,  and  turned  his  eyes  from  Butler  to  the 
boys  at  the  table.  As  the  disturbance  increased 
and  his  position  behind  the  chair  was  threat- 
ened, he  moved  hastily  towards  the  door.  When 
he  had  got  a  firm  grasp  on  the  knob  he  raised 
his  cane  and  shook  it  threateningly  at  Butler. 
Then  he  opened  the  door  and  backed  out.  The 
noise  within  ceased  lest  it  attract  a  crowd 
without. 

''  Cheer  up,  hie  !  Josh.  Be  neigh'bly.  Good- 
by,  Josh  ;  good-by,  hie  !  hie  !  he-ic  !  "  And 
the  door  closed  with  a  bang. 


THE  BROKEN  ENGAGEMENT  237 

Ben  was  on  his  feet  in- an  instant,  the  lock  in 
the  door  was  turned,  and  in  five  minutes'  time 
the  room  presented  its  old-time  appearance. 
Four  boys  sat  around  a  study-table,  reading  and 
laughing  at  intervals,  while  the  abominable 
smell  of  rum,  musk  and  tobacco  crept  out  of 
three  open  windows. 

The  following  morning  Mark,  who  had  come 
up  early  from  the  post-office,  handed  Ben  a 
letter.  Butler  tore  off  the  end,  smiling  com- 
placently the  while,  and  read  the  letter  within. 
Then  he  threw  it  over  to  Mark,  saying : 

"  '  Oh,  such  a  day, 
So  fought,  so  follow'd,  and  so  fairly  won  ! ' " 

Mark  read  aloud : 

Watervii.le,  Maine,   1844. 
To  Be7ijami7t  F.  Butler  : 

Sir:  Have  found  you  out.  Mistake  in  date,  was  it? 
I  hereafter  forbid  you  entering  my  house  and  having  any 
further  acquaintance  with  my  daughter.  The  engagement, 
unhappily  made,  is  broken  for  all  time. 

Joshua  N.  Green. 
P.  S.     Read  Rom.  6:  23. 


238  COLBY  STORIES 

Whether  governor  of  the  old  Bay  State  or 
major-general  in  the  Civil  War, — yes,  or  win- 
ner of  hearts  of  the  lassies  of  his  early  col- 
lege days, — Ben  Butler  stands  peerless  to-day. 

THE    END 


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